


Judgement

by TheTrueCommander



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Dante's Inferno (Video Game), Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Angel Wings, Angels, Catelyn Tully Stark Bashing, Crossover, Demons, F/M, Fallen Angels, House Lannister, House Stark, House Targaryen, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Seraphim, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTrueCommander/pseuds/TheTrueCommander
Summary: Every king in existence needs both servants and warriors, to fight his battles and fulfill his every desire, and yet kings must also require judges and other such workers to keep the law in his domain.Even Gods are kings and when the creator's greatest judge goes missing, a young bastard plucked from a life of suffering might just hold the key to the greatest angel's return.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Jon Snow & Ned Stark, Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister
Comments: 20
Kudos: 91





	1. Limbo

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've had in mind for a while and i will say this now, until the later chapters this will be VERY fast paced. Nonetheless I do hope you enjoy this fusion of the original Dante's divine comedy with games of thrones and i look forwards to seeing where this goes.
> 
> Also know that i mean no offence should i get the layout of Heaven, Purgatory and Hell wrong, i am going purely off of the description given by Dante in the original copy of the Divine Comedy.

He didn’t remember much about what had happened, it was filled with fog and only small flashes became visible.

A woman in a dress with auburn hair and blue eyes, raising a hand to him as his siblings shouted and screamed around him. A man with graying-brown hair who leapt his defense when the woman’s rings sliced deep into his flesh and sent crimson blood dripping down his face.

There were other flashes now, of the same siblings attempting to comfort him as he stumbled away, vanishing into a crypt. Statues filled it and their stone eyes were drilling into his very soul as he howled in anger, the earth itself appearing to shake through his rage. It was then he had realized that they were looking at him, stone eyes having turned to ones of flesh that dripped frozen tears along their granite cheeks.

His body had stiffened in terror at the sight, before the terror grew worse as the earth continued to shake under his feet. Granite and marble had cracked with thunderous noises and the door to the crypt had been thrown open by the same man just in time for the earth to open as a great maw would to swallow him whole.

Screaming in terror, feet suddenly standing on nothing bar air, he was sucked into the split in the face of the earth that cracked shut behind him.

The air had rushed past him as he fell, snatching his screams faster than they could leave his mouth and eventually even his consciousness began to fade away, only for him to suddenly reach the end of the fall and land upon a pile of mud.

That was where he lay now, sprawled uselessly on a pile of mud after a fall that should’ve left him crippled as a minimum and dead as a maximum. Screams of agony and terror filled the air around him yet it was only a stinging pain along his arms and legs that sent him shooting to his feed, staring in horror at what lay before it.

It was a gate, simple in design and yet the horror of the colossal construction brought a tear to his eye. Each half of the colossal entryway was formed of twisted, black iron yet there was no decoration barring writing that he could not make out, yet was saved by a voice that rang out behind him.

“Through me you pass into the city of woe, through me you pass into eternal pain, through me amongst the people lost for aye. Justice the founder of my fabric moved; to rear me was the task of power divine, supremist wisdom and primeval love. Before me, things create were none, save things eternal, and eternal I endure. All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”

Such a voice was croaky and when the teen spun, the owner sent him recoiling in shock.

His hair was long and pure white, falling well past the shoulders and to his waist which was accompanied by a beard of the same color and length. Both were fiercely matted and filthy, yet were nothing in comparison to his talon-like fingernails which were a deep yellow and nearing a foot long. The outfit worn by the gaunt figure was expensive, made of fine red silks and a crown rested on his head, made of gold and inlaid with rubies but it was the golden dragon head combined with both the purple eyes and hair white as snow that gave away his identity.

Looking rather rightfully due to both the situation combined with the gaunt figure standing before him, when he spoke it was in a rather shaky voice “You… You’re the Mad King… Aerys Targaryen…”

A great wince tore free from the figure and a hand reached up, tearing at the matted hair with a violent motion, fingernails raking along his face. Such a motion lifted the sleeve of his outfit, revealing many scars and scabs along the limbs while the former king spoke “Mad… is that what they called me?! I did what I had to do in order to defend the realm! That does not make me mad!”

Straightening slowly, the teen’s eyes narrowed at the figure “You died… How are you here? I… cannot surely be dead, can I?”

Aerys shook his head, sending the white mane shaking, before grinning with blackened teeth “You are not dead, not yet… There is a reason as to why and that shall be revealed in time but for now all you must know is that you are on a divine quest, and this is your first step.”

His eyes widened and breathing quickened upon hearing his words, yet only one question stood out “where… are we?”

The Mad King’s head cocked before he roared with laughter, turning to face the iron gates “We are in the place where all sinners end up, the pit of eternal damnation and tomb of the rebellious angel… Welcome to the pit of Hell, Jon Snow, you are going to become very close to this wretched place, so best prepare yourself now… I am to act as your guide through the nine circles of damnation before handing you over to your next guide when we reach the circle of treachery.”

Jon Snow went silent as the Mad King gestured and the gates began to move, creaking open to reveal the damnation that lay within.

A foul smell hit him first, it reeked of shit and mud and blood that formed a cloud of such foulness that the teenager was nearly forced to his knees by its intensity. The screams came next, so many that even he could not guess their number, each one emerging from a tortured soul stuck naked in the mire. Maggots, flies and wasps stung and bit at every piece of exposed flesh, causing an awful mixture of blood and tears to flow down their bodies and into the sucking mud beneath their feet.

Many of the souls leapt for the gate as it creaked open but were forced back by crackling bolts of lightning which burned the flesh of those who attempted it.

Screams of agony echoed out but they were drowned out by the sound of rushing water, with Jon catching sight of a colossal black river. The waters themselves unleashed an uncountable number of agonized screams, with a wooden barge parked on the beach closest to them.

Aerys stood at his side, a dark grin in place as he gestured him forwards “Fear not, you will not come to harm on this journey; it has been commanded by our creator… Your mental state I cannot guarantee but your physical health will not be damaged, now follow me for Charon is not the most willing servant.”

As the Mad King walked on, Jon quickly followed, asking in a worried tone “Who… Are these people? Why are they suffering like that?”

The Targaryen turned to face him, smirking menacingly before turning back to the suffering masses and spread his arms wide “These are those who took no sides in life; did not fight for good or evil, instead for themselves. No crime committed by them made it worth placing them fully within Hell but at the same time they do not deserve the golden halls of Heaven, nor the repenting nature of Purgatory.”

Many of the tortured souls began to swarm towards them, arms grasping at their clothes and bodies while wailing in misery, begging for release from their suffering until the Mad King spread his arms wide and bellowed forth “Movere, damnatus animas!”

** A/N: Move, damned souls! **

Silence fell and a great flash of light burst free from the former king’s eyes, sending the souls wailing into even further despair, yet whatever he had said was more than effective for the crowds began to split. As a sea parted before Moses in another world, so did the mass of bodies split in a perfect path which lead to the vessel of Charon.

Aerys turned to him and gestured for him to follow which Jon did, their feet squelching foully in the mud as they made their way forwards, the souls slamming back together behind them.

It took far longer than Jon expected to reach the ferry but at the same time he was in excellent shape, having trained with a blade and worked amongst the servants of Winterfell for years. Aerys did not seem to be faring too well as they arrived, hunched over and breathing heavily as they arrived, yet forced himself to straighten as Charon came into sight with ponderous steps.

The figure was tall, towering over them both and Jon had to estimate his height as being equal to the hound’s. His body was gaunt and twisted, near naked and ribs on full display over paper thin skin that was dotted with liver spots. His hair was as white as Aerys’ own but not nearly as long and far neater and his nails were kept short. Rather oddly, an oar as longer than Charon was tall had been slung over one shoulder in the same manner that one might hold an axe.

As they stepped foot onto his ferry, the man gave Jon a dark look before turning to Aerys and speaking in an equally dark tone “First Dante, now this one… I refuse to carry the living into the depths of the tomb once more.”

The Mad King opened his mouth to speak but Charon waved him off “Vuolsi così colà dove si puote, ciò che si vuole. Virgil said the same and it shall work no longer; our father above declared that none shall step into the great tomb barring with his permission. Take your descendant and begone from this place, I refuse to guide you!”

Jon’s head whipped to Aerys yet was shown no heed by the former king, who just chuckled and waved a hand towards the dark-haired teen “you have looked, but not _looked_. Gaze into his soul Charon, tell me what you see and then tell me if you will take us across the Acheron.”

The ferryman of the underworld went silent for a brief moment, before turning to face Jon and his eyes went black as night only for him to howl in agony a second later and whip around, clutching at his face. Stepping forwards to steady him, Aerys’ gripped his arm as best he could with the long nails and shook his head, just in time for Charon to straighten up and speak in a shaky tone “I… s-shall carry you across the Acheron… Does he know?”

Ignoring Jon’s look of annoyance and worry, the Mad King shook his head “Nay… It is why we are on such a journey; the heavenly father desires to meet with him but cannot until he has traveled through the afterlife as Dante did oh so many millennia ago.”

Nodding with a snort, Charon spun and hefted the great oar from his shoulder and dipped it into the water, pushing the ferry away from the shores in a display of strength unbefitting for someone so old and shriveled. As the boat left the shore at a rapid pace, Jon felt a great wave of tiredness overcoming him which grew greater as Aerys rested a hand upon his forehead “Rest… This is not meant for mortal eyes, and you are not yet a member of the great choir.”

Shivering and doing his best to remain awake, it soon proved for naught as a foul mist began to engulf the ferry and sent him falling into a deep sleep.

** \-------Line Break------- **

When Jon Snow came too, it was on a beach of black sand with Aerys standing over him, smiling a black smile full of cracked teeth.

His head was pounding but it did not stop him from trying to stand, a small groan of pain escaping past his lips when he moved. Yet it still didn’t take too long for him to climb to his feet, accompanied by the words of Aerys “Glad to see you are not dead yet, descendant of mine.”

Standing slowly, leaning heavily on the dead king, he looked up at Aerys and spoke “what do you mean descendant...? What happened to me?”

Rolling his eyes, Aerys helped him to straighten fully “You passed through the veil of judgement; it exposes your soul’s sins for the world to see and helps determine where you should be sent before coming before the judge. As to how you are my descendant, were you never told? You are the child of Lyanna Stark and my son, Rhaegar Targaryen…”

His entire body stiffened in shock and small tears began to drip from his eyes, only for his lamentations to be cut off by a rather harsh slap from the former king who grabbed his face with the sharpened nails. Staring deep into his dark eyes, the king spoke “Quit being a miserable sod and straighten your resolve; you are a Targaryen and heir to the iron throne, not some sniveling infant who begs for a wet nurse!”

A shaky laugh escaped him and he shot the king such a dark glare that even the insane ruler flinched a tad “My apologies for acting upset when I just learned that I am a king after spending my entire life being treated like a bastard!”

Another roll of the eyes and Aerys slammed a hand into his stomach, forcing him upright “Oh be quiet, you are going to experience many more shocking things before these days are done… Now follow me, we enter the first circle of Lucifer’s tomb and take the first true step of your journey.”

Shaking his head, he made to take a step towards the Mad King only to catch sight of the circle before him and fall silent at the majesty. If King’s Landing was the greatest city of men then this was surely the city of gods; a colossal palace of white rock and gold that stretched high into the murky skies of the pit that they resided in. Thousands of windows and gates lined the colossal structure, with the greatest being a colossal set of seven wrought iron gates directly on the path before him.

Gazing upon his widened eyes and opened mouth, Aerys let out a booming laugh “welcome to the first circle of the tomb; the circle of Limbo.”

Stepping forth, the first of the seven gates began to creep open with a loud scream of tortured metal, allowing the duo passage into the colossal tower. As they walked, the Mad King kept talking “This is the home of noble pagans and the unbaptized who, although not worth of suffering further inside of the tomb, did not accept our lord into their hearts and so are forever stuck here in an inferior form of the white city.”

Jon stepped through the gates with an expression of amazement in place “what do you mean unbaptized? What is the white city...?”

The Mad King smirked a little “Baptism is a ritual through which a sinned individual may be cleansed of sin and be welcomed unto God’s embrace… The white city is something else however, a place you shall encounter on this journey yet it shall not be through my guidance. No… I am here to guide you through the tomb of Lucifer, until you come face to face with the lord of the fallen himself and ascend to the mountain of Purgatory, where your journey shall be picked up by another.”

A shaky sigh escaped the teen and looked around, gazing upon the souls milling in the area before turning to the following man “How… How do you know that I’m your descendant? Why did Father lie to me all these years?!”

Aerys let out a snort and shook his head “Don’t call him father, a real father wouldn’t hide you birth-right and let that slut of a wife treat you so harshly… Its easy to see that you are my descendant as well; you’ve got the Stark girl’s looks but parts of my family shine through plain as day. The cheek bones, your mannerisms, they’re obvious that you’re a Targaryen… As to why he lied?”

Turning to face the colossal castle, he let out a saddened snort “Why he hid it? Take a damn guess brat! The fat bastard that sits upon my throne killed every member of my family that he could set his hands on! My guess is that your foolish ‘father’ thought that if he claimed you as a bastard of his own seed, then you would not be placed under scrutiny thanks to his relation with said Baratheon… Evidently it has worked very well, considering you are still alive and have all your pieces intact.”

Jon shook his head, barely able to remain on his feet from the shock and it was looking likely that he would fall, had a hand not rested gently upon his shoulder.

It made him stiffen and look up at the person, already mentally exhausted from the revelations today.

The man had a kindly smile on his face when Jon stood, a face of wrinkles and hair turned grey with age that fell in a glorious mane down his shoulders. His clothing was a style which Jon knew well, having studied the first men with the Maesters of Winterfell for years; a fur shirt, trousers and boots with a mixture of chain-mail and boiled leather. A thick fur cloak was also slung across his shoulders, fastened closed with a direwolf pin.

His grey eyes and longer face, combined with the pin, meant that it did not take Jon long to recognize him as a Stark although which one he could not recall. Aerys’ look made it plainly obvious that he did not recognize him either but it didn’t seem to bother the elder Stark.

Rather he chuckles and patted Jon’s shoulder “well now! What is a living person doing down here with us?”

Jon went silent for a brief moment, staring down at the smaller man “I don’t know… I fell through the crypts at Winterfell and woke up down here, now I’ve been told that I’m not only the king of the seven kingdoms but apparently I’m on a mission from a God that I’ve never heard of with the Mad King as my guide…”

The elder Stark went silent, looking up at the young member of his house with a rather incredulous look before rubbing the bridge of his nose “You… Sound like you’ve had a rather interesting day and also, what do you mean the king?”

He gave a helpless shrug, Aerys standing with a rather bored look in the background, before continuing “Honestly I only found out today… Apparently my father was the Mad King’s child and the woman who I thought was my aunt for years upon years… Now I’ve found out that I’m apparently the king who was raised as a bastard to keep me safe from the current king who would’ve killed me if he ever found out.”

Silence followed his little rant with the elder Stark staring at him, rather calm in appearance yet clearly a bit shocked at the revelations revealed, before he gave another little shrug “Follow me, we shall head further into Limbo and talk some more.”

Jon turned to Aerys, an inquisitive look in his eyes and the former king gestured for him to walk with an utterance of “Go ahead, we must head to the citadel before moving on anyhow.”

The three males began to walk through the various gates, each of the seven iron doors creaking loudly as they opened before them. With each gate passed, Jon began to notice that fewer and fewer souls in the colossal castle, while the quality of each section began to get higher. It switched from freezing granite and rotten wood to polished marble and burning fires until they passed through the seventh gate and arrived at somewhere resembling paradise.

Rolling fields and great braziers, with a number of souls milling around in fine robes while talking to each other. What shocked Jon, however, was a number of babies were being held by some of the souls and a few toddlers were playing together by the warmth of the fire.

He turned to the elder Stark who let out a little sigh “Unfortunately there are many children who are not baptized and the laws of the afterlife are very strict… Most of them do not stay here, however, for a number of angels will descend every now and again to take them to the white city. While we wait for them, we do take care of them though.”

The elder Stark sighed softly and led the two men over to one of the colossal braziers where they were able to relax from the freezing winds that blew around them.

Silence remained for a while, which was broken by Jon who turned to Aerys and spoke in a rather calm tone “so… I am already having a really dark day and I want to know precisely what kind of journey I have been tasked with going on… Will I be able to return to my family when it is done?”

Aerys gave a little shrug “I cannot tell you precisely what task you have been set for I do not even know, but I know that you have been summoned by the creator. You will travel through Hell, Purgatory and Heaven in that order, which will cleanse your soul before you travel to the Empyrean and come face to face with the heavenly father… As to whether you will be able to return to your family or not, I will not be able to answer for it will not be me who accompanies you.”

Jon gave a little nod, a small bit of relief filling his frame upon realizing that there was a chance on him returning to his family, before turning to the elder Stark “You mentioned an angel… What actually is an angel, what is the ‘heavenly father’?”

The elder’s face became pensive “You truly do not know...? No of course not, you have the looks of my descendants, they would never have told you… The heavenly father is one of the Gods that exist, only he is the creator of not only them but of all things. From the highest of mountains to the brightest of starts to, well, even the great tomb in which we stand now… As to what an angel is? Well the heavenly father is the king of all things and all kings require warriors and servants.”

Jon gave a little nod, understanding a little more with the explanation, before his attention was torn away by his grandfather who spoke in a rather calm tone “Do not get comfortable Jon, we need to move on.” Both younger and elder Stark turned to him with a curious gaze as the Targaryen king continued “we must travel to the core of the citadel, before travelling to Lust, you must first touch the center of Limbo.”

It made both of the Starks give him a curious gaze, with Jon being particularly interested but he received no satisfaction from the next words “You shall find out why when we arrive…”

The dark-haired teen let out a rather brooding sigh before giving a little stretch “Fine… I hope that I do get some explanations when we arrive, I feel like a thousand questions are forming in my mind with each answer given…”

Aerys’ shrugged and turned away from the flames “You shall receive some information when we arrive but whether it’ll be satisfactory for you or not, it rests fully upon your shoulders…”

Jon let out a soft hum and gave a little stretch, facing the old king “I really hope so… This is all happening so fast that I feel as if I can barely keep up… From a bastard getting swallowed by the earth itself, with me now apparently being a lost king on a divine quest to meet the creator of all things… I am having a lot of trouble believing that I’m simply dead and in the afterlife with it taking the form of this all…”

It was the elder Stark’s roar of laughter than snapped him from a mixture of brooding and musing, alongside a powerful slap to the back that nearly sent him reeling despite the man’s age “Hah! Even the heavenly father isn’t that nice, much less the seven. If you aren’t in the white city then trust me when I say this isn’t your paradise.”

The younger Stark let out a soft sigh and it was with that, that the Mad King Aerys led them further and further into Limbo.

Pastoral groves full of luscious grass stretched as far as the eye could see and the great braziers dotted the lands as farms did the North. Around each one, like moths to a flame, were souls that basked in the warmth while joking and laughing.

Some of them turned to face them as they passed and a few of the younger toddlers even walked up to them, with the elder Stark shooing them off by patting their heads and pointing to other souls. One inquisitive one, a child with stark white hair and the gleaming purple eyes of the Targaryen people, even walked up to Jon and tugged gently on his cloak.

Aerys seemed to recognize her for his face paled, yet he spoke not a word even when the elder sent her on her way, however he had clearly been shaken which was shown when he spoke not a word for the rest of the walk.

The greenery began to blend together after a while with the braziers seeming to become one after a while, all of it blending together until they arrived at a colossal white tower which had its gate torn off and thrown aside. Jon’s unasked question was answered by the elder Stark “that is the remnants of the ‘harrowing of Hell’; where the son of the creator descended into the tomb following his death and brought the worthy souls to the white city.”

An inquisitive look was given but no reply was forthcoming as they approached the great tower, with Aerys spreading his arms wide once more “Welcome to the center of Limbo and the gateway to Lust. Before we enter the next circle, however, you must firm lay your hand upon the center of the first circle. Why this is, I do not know but we shall find out together.”

Jon gave a little nod and together they made to step through the gateway, only for the elder Stark to be thrown back in a flash of light. When the younger made to help him, though, he was waved off by the man “no need to help me lad, this is my circle and I will never be able to leave. The only reason that the old bastard there is, is because he’s guiding you…”

His head cocked and he made to step forwards once more, only for the man to also wave him off once more “Do not come back, keep moving forwards, it’ll be interesting to see where this task takes you.”

Yet a third time he went to open his mouth, perhaps to call out and ask him who the old man was to him however he received no opportunity for he faded away into white smoke and left the two of them alone. A disappointed look formed as Jon spun, facing Aerys who gestured him to move forwards with a little sigh “Come, we shall pass through the center and reawaken in the circle of Lust.”

They began to move onward and Jon was immediately struck with how damaged the tower looked; the great marble walls were littered with cracks and showed clear signs of wind-weathering. It was as if a great force had slammed into the tower and allowed the wind to tear through, ripping the stonework apart.

Yet his thoughts were violently torn away as they rounded a corner and a great flash of light filled their vision however their reactions were vastly different.

Aerys let out a terrible shriek and fell to the ground, doing his best to shield his eyes with the long nails of his hands, while also trying to rub them and remove the pain. Jon, on the other hand, was filled with a sudden and deep sense of longing upon seeing the intense light.

He began to step forwards and everything seemed to fade around him, with his body drawing closer and closer to what at first seemed to be a miniature sun but it quickly faded into a feather. It was similar to that of a dove, with silky strands and yet at the same time the entire thing was made of a fire so intense that the teen instinctively knew that there was no mortal fire that would ever surpass it.

Yet instinct was still in control and, despite his body screaming not to touch the flaming feather, a gloved hand closed firmly around it before the tower was engulfed in light and sound.

It burst forth as the sun would crest the horizon, starting with a dull red and purple before growing brighter and brighter as the power behind it grew. Clenched tight in his fist, the feather began to dissolve into energy that flowed into his palm and with it came knowledge, things that he should not have known and yet did.

He saw the world laid bare before him, every soul able to be pulled apart and their individual secrets laid bare before him, and yet not everything could be seen. Jon’s eyes saw those who were virtuous but at the same time had not ascended to the heavenly father’s embrace, he saw the babies taken before they could be gifted with a rebirth and those who had committed such great deeds be turned away and gifted to the grey city, a means of both punishment and reward.

Yet he was also gifted with knowledge of a tower, an eternal great fortress that would spring forth from the earth to fulfill his every desire, the souls contained within jumping forth to act without thinking.

With that, however, the strain grew too much for his brain and he fell into unconsciousness before Aerys’ worried eyes.


	2. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lustful drifted away from God's path, carried away by their passions, so now they shall drift forever; carried away in much the same fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rather interesting chapter to write and I'll be doing the next chapter of Undivided next before focusing fully upon this. It is certainly fun to write a Divine Comedy based story although I just wish that college had not gotten in the way as much as it did.

His dreams were wrought with things he should not know, memories from over a thousand years flashing back into his mind with the force of arrows.

With each memory, a deep flash of pain echoed through his head and his face twitched in agony, flinching as a new piece of his past was revealed. His mind’s eye was constantly dragged onto people, those who had died years ago and those yet to be born, seeing their crimes laid out bare before him.

Most of the crimes he was unable to understand, just appearing as a random mess of colours and energy, but there were some that he was able to recognise. The virtuous souls were revealed for his eyes; those who committed crimes that were not great enough for them to suffer pain for.

The first men who conquered the North, the healers and teachers who dedicated their lives to helping those in need. Others too, kind priests who did not know better, preaching the words of false Gods out of a desire to help. Many had been sent to the circle of Heresy for that sin but some of them were kind or virtuous enough that they were allowed to reside in Limbo.

Yet there was another soul that had caught his eye, the elder Stark who had helped them earlier, and so Jon Snow leapt back into his mind and gazed upon the man’s soul.

Struck with more memories, his back arched and he experienced the life of the man in less time than it took to blink. He saw a birth, a loving mother and a father who was not as much, both of them staring down at him with mixed expressions. Jon saw siblings, near dozens of them, some older and some younger and yet all of them cared for the boy for he was kind and looked out for them. He saw a teenager, travelling to the north after seeing the attack of the Others, children with faces of green who moved amongst the trees as if they were family. Then there was ice, ice and magic sprouting from the ground as it stretched higher and higher into the sky, an impenetrable barrier unable to be crossed by the Others or their thrall armies. It jumped again and suddenly he was an older man, standing before a great keep with a direwolf at his side, his children gathered around him as they all gazed upon his home. A final jump revealed unto him two things, the name of the castle and the name of the man; Brandon Stark who lay in his bed, dying of old age with his family gathered around him in the keep of Winterfell.

With that he shot upright, clawing at his face and gasping for air as the pain in his head began to fade away. The memories remained, knowledge of crimes committed by nearly every human to ever live, but the pain faded into the back of his head.

Aerys was standing above him, panic filling his face while a frail hand was offered to him, something that Jon took and used to stand while speaking in an amazed voice “I know so many things now! It’s like my mind has been opened!” The former King’s face twisted in confusion and Jon began to explain in a rapid yet overjoyed tone “When I touched the feather, its like a whole new world was revealed unto me! I could see every person who ever lived or will live, and their souls were open to me! Granted I couldn’t understand most of it but some I could and it was the souls of those who were to live in Limbo!”

Waving his hands for silence, Aerys let out an exasperated sigh “Hold on just a moment… First of all, that thing was a feather? All I saw and felt as we approached it was a feeling like the sun itself was in front of me…” Jon gave a little nod and he continued “So when you touched it, you were able to see every human who… ever lived?”

Upon seeing his second nod, the Mad King let out a little sigh “Then you should be able to tell me the precise identity of the elder who guided us?”

Smiling brightly, he continued “of course I can! His name is Brandon Stark, first of his name and also known as Bran the Builder, the man who constructed various buildings such as the wall and Winterfell. He is also known as the forefather of House Stark. We encountered him in Limbo for he was a virtuous man but not someone who worshiped the Heavenly Father!”

Aerys went silent, staring at him for a brief second, but when he did speak it was in a tired tone “You are telling me… That we just walked through the circle of Limbo with Bran the Builder… The man who lived thousands of years ago, who made your very house, constructed the wall to keep out the Others, and built numerous places across the North…?” His descendant gave a smile and it made him grip onto his forehead “You said you were getting overwhelmed by this day… I’m dead and I believe that’s the only reason I have not died for a second time… Lets… Lets just keep moving for now, we need to pass Minos before we can truly head into Lust.”

Jon’s eyebrow cocked as the two of them began walking, voicing his question “Who… exactly is Minos? Its not a name that I’ve ever heard before.” As they walked, the area around them began to change from a meadow into a gravel path, surrounded by hills that were quickly growing to the height of mountains.

The answer to his question came more as a story than a reply “Minos was once a famous King of Greece, that is a country in a… well another place that you frankly don’t need to be all that concerned with for the moment. Minos was famous for making a deal with one of their Gods; the deal was that everything he touched would be turned to gold. Yet this was a foolish error for he could not eat, drink or even touch his family without turning them to gold.”

He realized what must have occurred a second later, clasping his mouth with his hand in shock as the former King continued “Indeed so… Well he went before the Gods and begged that his foolish mistake be undone, something that was granted to him, although those that suffered at his hands were not turned back.”

Nodding in response, they continued walking, although Jon noticed rather clearly that the mountains around them were heavily wind damaged and a deep rumbling could be heard in the distance “Once he had passed, there was a lot of work done… Some wanted to punish him for his crimes when he was still a tyrant, others felt he had learned his lesson and wanted him in Limbo. Our house had not even come about yet when this was occurring, that is how long ago this was… Anyhow the Heavenly Father decided that he would be a judge, choosing which soul would face what punishment, and suffering if he did not do it fast enough.”

They paced further and further onwards, the rumbling growing louder and louder as a fierce wind began to lash around them. It threatened to pull them off their feet and dash them against the rocks although Aerys was affected far more so than Jon.

Letting out a deep growl at the feeling, he was stabilised when Jon grabbed onto his arm “It’s the accursed winds of Lust! As those who drift away into self-passions and lust, carried away in a storm of pleasure, so too are they carried away by a storm of pleasure here. Rather unfortunately for us that is a rather literal thing and so we will need to find a way across the storm.”

It grew harder and harder with each step, the winds picking up to the point where Jon’s eyes were forced closed and it felt as if he had no weight at all, nearly floating with each step.

Suddenly the wind died and they found themselves standing in a clearing, a gap in the mountains where the two caught their first glimpse of Minos.

The former king was colossal, while Jon had heard tales of giants from beyond the wall, it would not be a surprise to him if this massive creature towered over even them. Possessing tanned skin reminiscent of someone from Essos and yet white hair more befitting of someone from the Targaryen line, his face was a mixture of handsome and yet foul. In a way he was like King Robert; a rather beautiful exterior distorted by a mixture of age and too much food. Where his legs were supposed to be was the biggest surprise to Jon, for there were no legs at all, rather a massive serpent’s tail extended back in a great coil. Its scales were an emerald green and shining beautiful, the limb itself rippling with power from the muscles contained within.

There were no clothes on his body barring a crown, a thing of pure gold, with even the fabric glistening in the dim light. An everlasting reminder not only to his greed but to the pain he had caused both himself and those around him.

As they approached the colossal figure, Minos’ crowned head turned towards them and a great smile split his lips as he dropped into an overexaggerated bow “Ah my Lord! How long has it been? A century or a millennium? Hard to keep track nowadays for there is so much to do and so little time to do it! The whole process was far more streamlined with you around!”

Both Jon and Aerys exchanged curious looks as Minos’ grin became far more sinister “Do you not remember me, my Lord?”

Jon gave a little nod in response and Minos gave a loud bellow of laughter “How delightful! I never did think that I would see the day when my Lord himself lost his memory… You, damned soul, what exactly are you doing out of your circle, especially with him of all people?”

Former King faced down former King before Aerys replied, a sneer clearly detectable in his tone “Oh don’t you dare be rude to me, I am here on a mission from the Heavenly Father himself. I have been tasked with guiding your ‘Lord’ through the nine circles before he begins his journey to the White City itself.”

The serpent King’s head cocked and he leant forwards, allowing Jon to catch sight of something hiding between the coils of his tail. It was in the shape of a water-wheel although bigger, with eight separate sections divided up by the spokes and each one able to fit a man the size of the mountain. Constructed of a thick, expensive looking wood and lined with brutal spikes, the purpose of it became clear when Minos’ tail hooked a nearby soul and slammed it onto one of the sections.

It began to spin rapidly, an energetic crackling emerging from the construct before the soul suddenly vanished in a loud puff of smoke which was accompanied by Minos whispering “Seven…”

Aerys let out a little sigh and leant back towards Jon and began to whisper to him “His tail and the wheel are used in the judgement process. He is able to see their souls in the same way that you apparently can and uses it to decide where they shall be sent based off the sins committed in life. By wrapping his tail around them, corresponding to the circle that they will be sent to, he is able to impale them on the wheel of judgement which will send them to their new home…”

A soft hum escaped him as Minos returned his gaze to them, staring deeply at Jon with the dark smile still in place “This is certainly an interesting situation my Lord! I can scarcely believe that you have been rendered without your memory, why the last time I saw you it was as if you were so powerful that the Heavenly Father himself seemed like the only one to be able to kill you!”

It made both of their eyes widen in shock, glancing between each other with Jon being far more confused than his Grandfather, barely listening to the serpent king going on a long rant. His words were clearly meant to entice Jon but they found no purchase in his shocked mind, with the teen not even acknowledging his words for a good number of minutes. Only when the tirade of praise ended did Jon turn back and speak in a quiet tone “A moment, Minos… What do you mean that I was once powerful?”

With an overexaggerated gasp, the serpent king clasped a hand over his mouth “You mean you truly do not remember, my Lord?! How horrible! Well I do not think it is my place to tell you the full story, my Lord, especially since that seems like a task more for your guide than myself…”

Jon let out a deep growl and his fists visibly clenched which made the serpent king smirk while continuing “But perhaps I can tell you some things. I can inform you that the last time we met; you had a rather nasty habit of summoning parts of the nine circles to aid you… There was one particular time I remember particularly well; when you stepped into Lust and summoned the citadel of Limbo to shield you from the winds.”

The teen hummed softly, staring at his hands which made Minos’ smirk grow “So you don’t even remember how to do it… Do you remember when you banished me to this place, my Lord? Do you remember how I begged for you to release me?”

Jon shook his head, backing slowly away as Aerys’ face paled, watching the thick tail lift high into the air. It was thanks to his rather extensive training and excellent reactions that he managed to tackle his grandfather out of the way of the strike which cracked the earth although it left them sprawled over the floor. The younger Targaryen was far quicker with getting to his feet and darted to one side as the tail slammed down again with a bone shaking impact.

His movements were almost like a dance as he began to dodge the strikes, darting from side to side with motions that he didn’t know he knew. It was like his body was being dragged from side to side by memories even he had forgotten but he didn’t complain for it was keeping him alive.

A howl of fury escaped Minos upon seeing that Jon was still alive before he redoubled his efforts, tail lifting and slamming over and over again, sending shards of rock across the clearing.

His eyes flashed up and he caught sight of Aerys standing at Minos’ back, directly at the exit of the clearing which lead into a swirling wall of wind, shouting at the top of his lungs “RUN! GET THROUGH THE GATE! I’LL JOIN YOU AS SOON AS I CAN!”

Time seemed to freeze between them and their eyes locked before the former King nodded, darting through the gate and leaving Jon alone to face down the king of serpents who let out a rumbling growl. Hand shifting to his side, it clenched around a simple iron sword that had been given to him years before in preparation for his trip to the wall, a weapon that had never before seen blood but a supernatural being would certainly be an excellent baptism for the blade.

Drawing the weapon, he settled into a simple stance, not entirely sure how to fight the mountainous being but resolving to get past him anyway. A small plan was already forming in his mind and he put it into action once he had dodged the next strike of the tail.

Bracing his legs against the gravel pathway, he kept his eyes on the tail as Minos drew it back in preparation to strike. It was obvious that a direct strike from the tail would kill him instantly, snapping his bones and bursting his organs through the incredible force contained within the appendage. The tail’s incredible strength would almost certainly be Minos’ downfall should he position himself correctly and it would certainly be a difficult manoeuvre to pull off correctly.

It slammed down once more to his right, showering him with shards of shattered stone but it did not phase him, rather he used it to steel himself in preparation for what was about to occur. When Minos hefted his tail, preparing to strike Jon flat, he flung himself to the floor while holding his sword up with one hand which braced the pommel against the floor.

Minos recognised what was about to happen but it was far too late and the colossal tail slammed onto the upwards blade with a great crack. The weapon itself would not pierce his scales with Jon alone behind it, but the serpent king slammed his tail onto the blade with his full strength and it parted the scales and flesh with a sickening fluid motion.

A horrifying screech of agony escaped Minos who writhed in pain while Jon yanked the sword away, only for the blade to snap and leave him holding a handle. Shaking it off, however, he lunged towards the fog gate and dived into the swirling winds, leaving Minos howling behind him.

It quickly became apparent to Jon that staying against Minos would’ve been a far better choice for he was yanked off his feet with enough force to nearly tear his bones from their sockets. Screaming in a mixture of pain and shock, he was thrown through the air, unable to move coherently as the wind snatched his breath from his lungs and tossed him aside with ease.

As he flew through the air, screaming as loud as he could, something shot by his head so fast that he barely caught it and only flung his hands up in surprise to protect his face. The object didn’t come into contact with him but it was a close call, with a loud scream of shock escaping him as it passed. Another one shot past him a second later and he was able to see precisely what it was this time; a person, naked as the day they were born and screaming in horror at their situation while the wind tore at their skin.

They passed away but his eyes were beginning to adjust now and he caught sight of numerous souls now flying alongside him. Each one naked and howling in agony, Jon caught sight of Aerys in the distance who was screaming and flying along, although he was luckily not naked. Growling in annoyance, he forced a hand to his side and grabbed onto his cloak, fingers lacing in the thick fur and spreading it wide in a parody of a sail.

It worked, perhaps a bit too well, and he was flung forwards where he slammed into his grandfather with a bone-shaking impact.

Wind was rushing between them, peeling at their skin and clothes with unimaginable force while trying to force them apart but Jon held firm. Wrapping his arms more firmly around Aerys, he held on and they began to fly through the air together yet were still able to speak, something he took advantage of by shouting “We need to get to shelter!”

The former King shook his head while trying and failing to see out of the thick clouds of Lust “There’s no chance! The winds get stronger towards the edges, the centre is the only place where we can even fly safely! If we get any closer to the edges then we’ll be dashed to pieces!” Jon gave him a rather incredulous look and Aerys continued “Yes I know I’m dead but it’ll erase me! Permanently! The only safe place to get out of Lust is in Minos’ cavern and we can’t risk it!”

Hissing in fury, they continued to fly through the air as souls passed alongside them, the wind growing progressively stronger. It struck Jon first and he shouted once more to Aerys when they had a moment to breath “Lust! It doesn’t want us to stick together! Its why the wind is strong! The circle itself wants to separate us!”

It began to get faster and faster as they clung together, until Jon’s head snapped up and his eyes lit brightly “I have an idea!”

The mad King turned to him, face pure white with worry, and shouted back “What is your fucking plan then?! The circle is going to rip us to pieces unless you do something and I don’t see any way for us to stop the wind!”

Turning back to Aerys, he let out a terrified chuckle before meeting the Targaryen’s eyes with his own which seemed to thrum with power “Minos said something before we jumped into Lust! He said that in my previous life, even I couldn’t stand against the wind! But he also said that to do it, I summoned the citadel of Limbo to shield me! Maybe I can figure out a way to do it again! That’ll keep us safe from the wind!”

Although Jon could not hear it, he saw his grandfather take a shaky breath before fixing him with a harsh glare and a bellow of “I hope you’re right!”

A nod was his reply before he shut his eyes and leapt back into the feeling of power that had emerged when he first touched the feather. It was not that difficult to find for, inside his mind, it took on the form of a blazing sun that he merely needed to reach for in order to interact with. The moment his fingers closed around it, his mind was flooded with the memories of those in Limbo and those who would be eventually, but he managed to push past it; falling unconscious would mean death in his current situation.

Rather he began to look not at the knowledge of the souls, but rather of the circle itself, and it was a decision that he quickly came to both love and despise.

Jon first caught sight of Limbo as a whole, eyes staring at the castle from above, seeing the stretching halls and boundless fields of the citadel to the rotting wood of the outer reaches of the great fortress. Yet it quickly moved beyond that and his mind was forced to observe as the castle spread further and further outwards, an infinite labyrinth that went further and further into the depths of hell, the halls emerging as needed.

He began to howl mentally, agony lancing through his head upon being forced to witness the eternal labyrinth of Limbo spreading forever outwards. It was not until pain began to lance through his physical body that he managed to snap away from the knowledge and realise that he had been clawing at his eyes.

Blood was now dripping from his fingers, weakening his grip on Aerys, but his mental hold on Limbo did not lessen in the slightest and he called forth the power that was boiling away inside him.

Looking down at the ground, the power burning inside him allowed him to see through the rushing wind and smoke, catching sight of the ground below them. It was flat, so flat that he had trouble believing it to be solid earth before realising that the incredible wind must have eroded away any outcroppings.

Nonetheless it was solid rock and that was all that he needed.

Reaching deep inside himself, Jon Snow wrapped a mental hand around Limbo and screamed into eternity for it to help him.

The circle responded in a way that he never could’ve imagined.

It began with a deep rumbling in the earth, shaking the foundations of the ground itself as the flattened rock started to buck and writhe, forcing itself upwards with a noise like a frozen lake splintering. Great chunks of stone were swept away by the swirling maelstrom but neither Jon or Aerys gave it any attention, rather they were more focussed on what was rapidly tearing its way free from the depths of the planet.

Wooden supports came first, sprouting forwards in the same way that a tree would grow from the earth. The cracked earth followed quickly along, flowing into bricks, building the citadel of Limbo from the ground up.

Stained glass dripped from window frames like teardrops down faces while iron nails erupted forth from doorways and other places to bind the whole structure together. Shielded from the wind, both Jon and Aerys could watch as more and more of the decorations formed. Tables broke free from the walls and coloured tiles sucked themselves free of the wooden floor as more and more stained glass formed itself, allowing them to see outside the hall and yet at the same time it protected them from the wind.

Now sheltered from the wind inside the hall, they were left to skid painfully along the floor until they halted, sprawling over the tiles.

Aerys let out a pained groan, head arching upwards before giving Jon a little glance “By the Heavenly Father… I think I’d much rather have preferred dying to the wind rather than having to go through that again… I’m dead and that still hurt…”

His grandson growled in fury, not moving from his position on the floor “I’m alive… How do you think I feel…? I pity the souls who have to go through this…”

The former King slowly stood, grunting in pain and giving a little stretch with his movements to try and get rid of the pain that was wracking his body “You shouldn’t pity them, they’re here for a reason. Tytos Lannister is one, a foolish and arrogant man who lost everything to his lust… He even died because of it; straining his heart as he climbed the steps to fuck a low born whore… What a pathetic man.”

Jon just grunted and began to stand while giving a stretch of his own “He had a whore, who cares? Practically everyone I’ve ever met has had a whore, hell if the tales I’ve heard are true then King Robert has a bastard for each year he’s been alive.”

Shrugging, Aerys extended a hand to his grandson but it was waved off “Many men do have whores, I had multiple but swore off them… Doesn’t have to be a whore to render you weak to Lust… I was not the best man to my wife and if I had not been a King then I would certainly be in either the circle of Lust or Violence…”

Finally, on his feet and looking around the hall, Jon paid little more attention to Aerys and instead walked forwards to stare out of the stained-glass windows. They depicted rather horrific scenes of violence, from a man boiling in a lake of blood to another being devoured by a colossal three-headed dog, they got more and more graphic the further along he walked. It reached a peak eventually, when they came across the end of the hallway, a great mural of glass decorating the wall.

It showed a figure, as tall as a mountain, with six wings not to dissimilar to a bat’s in shape and design although these ones were larger than sails. Its legs were furry and cloven, as a goat’s hooves would be, but its upper half was that of a man with a massive barrel-chest. The head was the most horrific part of all.

Rather than having a regular head as a normal giant would, there were instead three faces on the head. One of them was a deep pale colour, the next was a deep red and the final one was a rather sickly yellow in colour. Each of the six eyes was weeping, dripping a disgusting mixture of tears, blood and pus that dripped over the three faceless men held in the razor fangs of each gaping maw.

Aerys went silent in a mixture of horror and respect upon catching sight of the mural before patting Jon’s shoulder “That is the arch-traitor himself… I shall not say his name, names have power in this wretched tomb and to draw his gaze is unwise, even if he is imprisoned within the Cocytus’ icy grip.”

Nodding in agreement, both of their heads snapped up as a deep warmth began to radiate around them, something that made the former King groan in annoyance “I think… That the feeling is coming from another one of those damned ‘feathers’ which we came across in Limbo, the feeling is much the same although you don’t seem… As affected as before, which I find rather strange.”

Jon just shrugged and stared at the mural for a moment longer “It… Doesn’t really matter where it is if we cannot leave the citadel of Limbo. To step outside these walls is to meet our demise, but we will need to step outside of the walls to collect the feather.”

Silence fell for a brief moment between them, barring the howling of the wind and souls outside until Jon broke it with a little sigh and waved his hand. The wall began to crumble, exposing the rushing winds beyond which made the mad King take a step back as his grandson gave him a gentle smile “The winds won’t kill us if we aren’t together… I’ll grab the feather and then work out another way to get is through.”

The former King’s eyes widened in shock and he went to grip Jon’s arm but didn’t get a chance as the teen stepped out of the castle and into the wind once more.

He was whipped away instantly, breath snatched by the powerful wind but at the same time he was more prepared this time. Holding his arms at his sides, cloak pinned rather firmly in place by said arms as Jon practically flew along, but this time he had a destination in mind rather than the random flailing from when he first entered Lust.

It was calling him to him, he could feel it just ahead, an aura of power radiating from the flaming appendage that wanted him to reach out and grab it.

Teen and feather came together with the force of an arrow punching through armour.

Unlike the rather tame energy of Limbo’s feather, Lust’s was a boiling ocean of power that flooded his body with an ocean of pain and pleasure. His mind was forcibly torn open and a million names were shoved inside, alongside memories of pleasure and pain, jealousy and forbidden desire. Affairs, jealous assaults, rape and a billion other horrific memories filled his mind alongside names and faces of all the sinners in Lust.

Yet another thing poured into his mind as well; control, control of the swirling winds that surrounded Lust as they were brought under his influence by the feather which he grabbed.

The blackness was closing in around him once more, Jon could see it creeping up through his vision, but he knew that if he were to pass out that he and Aerys would die. Torn away by the wind and dashed against the rocks, he had to do something to get them out of Lust, and so he pushed past the pain.

Reaching out, his mental fingers clamped around the ball of crackling energy that was now inside of his mind.

Pain lanced through everything but he reached out, clamping the winds around both Aerys and himself before throwing them both towards the edge of Lust, only able to hope they escaped and were not dashed to death on the rocks.

Nonetheless he dwelled on it no longer, as the darkness and pain claimed him once more.


	3. Gluttony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having exited Lust, the pounding storm of Gluttony now awaits, with the great worm howling at its center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an interesting chapter to write. I'm terribly sorry for the 2-3 day delay, I've been overwhelmed with work lately. Nonetheless I still managed to finish this and so i hope you all enjoy it!

Once more it took a long time before his thoughts fully returned to him, with bursts of light and crackling energy that boiled through his thoughts.

There were images with the pain, slow to form and some of them he could not make out, yet some were clear as day. He could see Lady Stark staring at his Uncle, something he had to consciously remind himself of even now, a soft smile on her face.

Other faces became clear; Sansa, staring at a well-drawn picture of someone that he recognised as the Crown-Prince Joffrey Lannister, yet the power inside of him crackled furiously at the words. Nonetheless he quickly pushed on through that and began to look at the other souls, one of them had a name told to him by the powers inside him, a crackling and spitting voice that whispered silently to him “Ramsay Snow…”

The man was staring at a serving girl with a look of such deranged lust that it made him cringe internally, with the power crackling even more violently, howling at the heavens upon witnessing the feelings within him. Such burning lust and cruelty made Jon want to do nothing more than reach out and wrap his hands around his head, pulling it to one side until a crack echoed across the room, like snapping the neck of a diseased dog or a suffering soldier.

Yet he forced himself to look past them all and instead his eyes narrowed in on Winterfell once more, although it was not in the various whores fucking away in their client’s homes, or the lustful thoughts of his family.

Rather his gaze was pulled towards one of the many abandoned towers of Winterfell and a soft smile formed on his face upon seeing the sight of Bran climbing up the outer walls. Ever the little climber, the boy practically leapt from stone to stone as he hauled himself upwards. Anyone else watching the boy would’ve fainted in terror for it seemed very much likely that Bran Stark could fall to his demise at any possible moment but Jon knew better. Nobody knew the towers and crevasses of Winterfell better than Bran and there were even fewer out there who could climb to even the same level of skill.

Yet the winds of Lust that swirled around the tower suggested to him that he was here for a reason and so he willed himself closer, watching Bran with a soft expression in place. Out of all his cousins, Bran and Arya were his favourites and he would do anything to keep them safe.

Perhaps that is why he continued to fly along with him, although a question was pounding itself into his mind with each passing moment ‘how long had he been gone?’, yet he didn’t let it bother him at the time. Rather he watched as Bran climbed higher and higher, approaching the window of the tower and it is then that Jon realised why the winds of Lust were swirling so powerfully; moaning was echoing through the window.

He forced himself up further, noting with a look of particular horror that Bran was beginning to move closer and closer to the window, and poked his head in to a rather erotic scene.

Both male and female were beautiful in their own ways, Jon had no choice but to admit that as he gazed upon their naked frames, although there was something off about them together that made him grit his teeth. Both were tall, with blonde hair and green eyes that gave them a royal appearance, with the male being muscular and the female possessing a curvier frame although he felt no attraction to either of them.

Jon sat there as an impartial observer, dread growing in his frame upon realising that Bran was getting closer and closer, his body tensing upon what would happen if his younger cousin entered the room.

Unfortunately, he was unable to halt his younger cousin due to the lack of voice and had no choice but to sit back as Bran slowly climbed into the room. Pausing in the window, he looked out the window and smiled happily as the two were forcibly snapped out of their passion-filled coupling, staring at the smaller boy as he turned and caught sight of them, his own body freezing up at the two.

A staring match took place, the man and woman staring wordlessly at the boy who didn’t even attempt to run despite Jon’s shouted warnings. Yet he was but a dream and his words could not be heard by any of them, forced to watch as Bran spoke in a trembling voice “a-aren’t you… the q-queen?”

Silence for a moment more, Jon howling at the top of his lungs to try and get him to run away yet none could hear him.

Slowly the male pulled out and stood, using his tunic to cover his manhood from the child as the woman covered herself with an old blanket, Bran showing no signs of embarrassment for his mind was too young to process it. Jon, however, was more than capable of understanding what was happening and why the winds of Lust blew so strongly.

The similar looks, the woman being the queen and the fact that they both looked beyond mortified at being discovered: they were brother and sister.

Jamie and Cersei Lannister were having a secret affair.

The winds of Lust erupted inside him at the horrific act of incest and adultery being committed by the two of them, yet there was little he could do other than watch as they approached his little brother. Words seemed to fade out of existence to him as they took Bran by the arm, holding him inside the tower.

Terror was plain as day to see on Bran’s face and it whipped the translucent into a frenzy, howling and bellowing as they spoke words that went over his head like paper caught in a strong breeze.

It was quickly becoming obvious to him what was about to happen as brother and sister locked eyes, the wind inside the tower growing stronger and stronger as Jon’s rage grew greater and greater still. Perhaps that was why, when Jamie Lannister gave an utterance of “The things I do for love...” and shoved his little brother out the window, that Jon was able to avert the course of fate in a way that nobody expected.

Power that was already thrashing wildly inside him erupted forwards with a howl that could only be described as eldritch, drawing forth from the only hotbed of sin in the room; the Lust raging between the siblings.

Jon gained a body even as he launched out the window, the smoke, dust and wind coalescing in a body that was similar to his own and yet translucent. A face could be seen, once more similar to his own, yet made of the wind and twisted in uncharacteristic anger for the teenager. With the winds of Lust propelling him, he caught Bran before he had even fallen down half of the tower, pulling the small boy to his chest with arms of swirling mist.

There was a rather nasty knot on his head but at the same time he had managed to avoid the worst of the damage by slamming his skull into the ground at full speed or even harming the rest of his body from the impact.

Movement flickered in the corner of his eye but he paid it no mind, just kneeling over Bran and keeping a hand gently pressed to the boy’s forehead, the rage fading and being replaced by a gentle smile. He was okay, Jon could see it inside of him, although a tendril of heretical energy began to snake towards the boy which he brushed off with such ease that it surprised even him, watching as it recoiled in pain from his touch.

A voice rang out from in front of him, soft and trembling with emotion “J-Jon… is that y-you?”

His head cocked, a noise like a gale escaping from his mouth as he looked up only to meet the tear stained gaze of Arya and the horrified looks of the other members of Winterfell. The King was there as well and, despite his obese frame, the power inside of him hummed happily upon catching sight of a member of the royal family.

Others were there; Ned, Catelyn, Sansa and various servants who he recognised from Winterfell yet at the current Tim they meant nothing to him. Bran was still injured and he looked back down, hand gently stroking a strand of hair from his face and eyeing up the rather nasty knot that was still growing larger on his forehead.

The string of power returned, trying to latch onto Bran and he batted it away once more, yelling a curse at the thing but it was only now that he could hear his voice. It was not a human language that emerged from his mouth but rather a piercing, howling shriek that dug into the minds of all who heard it, evidenced by the pain flashing on the faces of those near him.

Bran let out a whimper of pain and that was enough to make him instantly stop speaking, just staring silently down at his unconscious brother before moving once more.

His motions were smoother than they had ever been before, as if his body was something beyond human, something he realised to be true a second later when he caught sight of his wind-formed limbs as they slid under his cousin’s limp body. Many of the watching people tensed but only King Robert and his uncle Ned had the courage to move forwards as he slowly lifted him and handed the limp frame over.

Robert took Bran off him and immediately carried the boy away, heading to the maester’s quarters while the Stark family met once again.

Arya crept forwards slowly, sliding out from the arms of Catelyn, and looking up at him with a tear-filled smile in place on her young face. Jon stared back down at her and a gentle smile formed, reaching out and wiping away one of her tears with a finger formed from a wisp of smoke.

She giggled at the contact, the swirling wind tickling her cheek, and he opened his mouth to speak before catching sight of Jamie and Cersei Lannister as they joined the crowd from behind.

The change was sudden and rather obvious; his entire body stiffened, translucent eyes narrowing and the air becoming charged with the same power as before. It was blindingly obvious that they realised what was about to happen even as it did, perhaps that is why Jamie was able to grab Cersei and throw them both out of the way as Jon drew back a fist and threw forth a punch.

Wind swirled forth from his fist, slamming into the space where the duo had stood just a microsecond before and had Jamie not thrown them to the side, the rocks that had been ground to powder would’ve been replaced with their bones. Howling wildly, the vortex of swirling power threw great shards of rock around and forced them to shut their eyes to avoid being blinded by the flying debris.

It lasted for a number of seconds, but by the time the vortex had abated; the ground had been torn apart and Jon’s spectre was gone.

** \-------Line Break------- **

His consciousness was slow to return, body and soul alike wracked with exhaustion when the power he had expended slammed into him, but it was partially dispelled by the rain that slammed down onto him from above.

Raised in Winterfell for his entire life, Jon was no stranger to the cold, but the rain that slammed into him was something else entirely. Standing with a loud groan, he nearly slipped to the floor once more upon trying to gain a decent footing in the mixture of mud and icy filth-water that continued to pound on his back. It took no time at all for his clothes to become soaked but the cold did not fully penetrate his flesh, not yet, and so he began to search for Aerys.

Despite the brightly coloured clothing of the former king, he was surprisingly difficult to find and it took him actually climbing fully to his feet for the two to catch sight of each other’s forms. It that which allowed Jon to finally understand why he had not spotted his ancestor earlier: his robes and heavy golden jewellery was coated in a thick layer of thick mud that was not being washed off by the pounding storm of putrefaction.

Jon looked down at himself and noted that his own clothes were coated in the thick black mud but shook it off, having grown used to filth in the many years of chores given to him by Lady Catelyn. The bone chill that it inspired was far more of a bother, but washing the mud off would be far easier when the putrid filth-water was not pounding into them constantly.

Stomping forwards, boots squishing in the foul muck that layered the floor, he drew close and shouted at the top of his lungs “WE MUST LEAVE! THE COLD WILL KILL US IF THIS CURSED RAIN DOESN’T DO IT FIRST!”

The mad King shook his head and turned, gripping his shoulder and shouting back to be heard “WE CANNOT SIMPLY WALK OUT OF GLUTTONY! THIS CIRCLE IS GUARDED BY CERBERUS, THE GREAT WORM, WE MUST REACH HIM IN ORDER TO PASS THROUGH THE GATE AND INTO GREED ALTHOUGH I HAVE A NASTY FEELNG THAT HE MAY END UP HAVING ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE ACCURSED FEATHERS!”

Jon felt an uncharacteristic rage well up inside of him upon hearing the word ‘accursed’ used to describe one of the feathers but quashed it nearly as soon as it began to rise. Rather he began to slog onwards, Aerys following closely behind him, and they began to pace around the circle of Gluttony.

It was here that he felt the sickest when observing the people, for not only were they in an awful physical state but the suffering that was inflicted upon them was beyond comprehension based on what he had seen so far.

Many were obese, folds of fat-lined skin clearly visible and often stomachs touched the ground even as they were forced to crawl on all fours like pathetic beasts. The rain beat down constantly, staining their naked frames with the icy water and the thick mud as they squealed and howled like hogs being fed for the first time despite their overfed and deformed bodies.

Yet even worse were those who fell upon each other, squealing in pain as they lashed and tore at flesh with teeth and fingers. Blood sprayed across the mushy earth as the obese figures fell upon each other, some draw in by the feeding frenzy while others were thrown away missing chunks of flesh that were crammed into the gaping maws of the other sinners suffering in the storm of eternal putrefaction.

Vomit nearly forced its way out of his mouth but he managed to hold it down, if barely, by looking away from the fighting monstrosities and instead focussing on the piercing cold.

They moved along and even Aerys looked a little uncomfortable at the sights around him, the man who raped his wife and burned entire families based on his own paranoid delusions. The monstrosities were becoming more and more damaged the further in they went, approaching the older and older souls.

These ones were suffering more than the others; blood dripped from gaping wounds and many had entire limbs missing or black from the sheer freezing cold nature of Gluttony. Frostbite was something Jon had seen many times and nearly experienced once himself, so how they could even keep moving was beyond him. Yet it was how they still shoved the freezing mud mixed with spilled blood and torn flesh into their mouths in a futile attempt to stave off the hunger that amazed him the most.

Jon couldn’t even deny that the scene around him filled him with a mixture of horrified fascination and dark joy as the sinners suffered away in the putrid mire.

Yet still the two plodded onwards through the mud, with Jon shouting to Aerys once more “WHAT IS GLUTTONY, WHAT COULD POSSESS A GOD TO MAKE THIS PUTRID PLACE?”

The former king let out a sigh, something that could not be heard but at the same time could be seen “THIS IS GLUTTONY, A PUNISHMENT FOR THOSE WHO OVERINDULGED IN FOOD AND OTHER SUCH THINGS! AS THEY WERE ANIMALS FIGURATIVELY IN THE REAL WORLD, NOW THEY ARE LITERALLY ANIMALS IN HELL! DOOMED TO FOREVER WANTED THE MIRE AND CONSUME WHATEVER THEY CAN FIND BEFORE CERBERUS CONSUMES THEM AND RESTARTS THE CYCLE ONCE AGAIN!”

He looked down at the animalistic people in the mire, clawing and howling wildly as the mud and blood sprayed over their frames “JUST… WHY THE ACCURSED STORM?”

That was something that Aerys was able to answer with a great shout of annoyance “THEY WERE COLD AND BLIND TO THEIR NEIGHBOURS SUFFERING IN LIFE, LOST AS THEY WERE AMONGST THEIR ENDLESS APPETITES! NOW THEY ARE CURSED TO WANDER IN THE STORM OF PUTREFACTION! NO MORE TALKING, THE GREAT WORM APPROACHES!”

It was then that he noticed the earth was beginning to tremble under his feet, not from the pounding rain but from something else, the footsteps of a great beast that was advancing through the mire.

Jon could only presume that it was the previously mentioned Cerberus as it came into view, and the sheer scale of the beast stole the breath from his lungs. He had seen big things before, like the castles of Winterfell and the bridges, even managing to get his hands on a drawing of a mammoth done by his uncle Benjen in his time beyond the wall.

Cerberus dwarfed mammoths by such a wide margin, that he could only guess that it was as tall as a home. The body was that of a massive hunting dog, all corded muscle and fur that was plastered to its frame by the pounding storm up above. Each paw held a claw as long as Jon’s arm and he felt rather terrified as he gazed upon the beast’s colossal frame although the worst was revealed as it stepped even closer to them.

Three great heads extended forwards from an abnormally large neck, each one snapping and howling at the various sinners as they grovelled in the mud around it. Every now and again, one of the great heads would shoot forwards with the speed of a snake and snap up one of the obese animals whole before swallowing it down a cavernous throat.

Yet there was something off about the beast, every now and again there was a loud whimper from it and the leftmost head was attempting to lick at the hidden side. It instantly caught his attention and he made his way over to Aerys before shouting to him once more “I’M GUESSING THAT IS CERBERUS?”

Aerys gave a nod, looking decidedly afraid of the beast “YOU WOULD BE CORRECT IN THAT ASSUMPTION! THAT IS THE BEAST OF GLUTTONY, CERBERUS, WHO CONSUMES THE SOULS OF THE SINNERS HERE AND BANISHES THEM BACK TO THE BEGINNING SO THAT THE CYCLE MAY BEGIN AGAIN!”

Jon just shook his head, pointing to the left side of the great beast “ITS INJURED!”

His ancestor gave him a confused look and the taller did his best to explain “I’VE BEEN AROUND DOGS MY WHOLE LIFE! ITS COVERING ITS LEFT SIDE AND LASHING OUT IN A WAY LESS CONTROLLED MANNER! SOMEONE OR SOMETHING HAS INJURED IT AND IF WE HELP THEN WE COULD PROBABLY GAIN PASSAGE THROUGH HERE!”

The Targaryen fell silent, staring ahead at Cerberus as it stood there in the mire, trying his best to see what Jon was talking about “ARE YOU SURE?! IT LOOKS TO BE IN PERFECT HEALTH TO ME, MORE THAN HEALTHY ENOUGH TO RIP US TO SHREDS!”

Silence for a moment before he nodded, turning to face it “IT’S THE BEST CHANCE WE HAVE TO MAKE IT THROUGH! CERBERUS IS A HOUND; IT’LL FIND US IF WE TRY AND HIDE FROM IT., WE NEED TO MAKE IT TRUST US ENOUGH TO GET US THROUGH AND ONE THING I KNOW ABOUT HOUNDS IS THAT IF YOU STOP THEIR PAIN, THEY’LL LOVE YOU BEYOND WORDS! I FUCKING HOPE THE SAME APPLIES TO CASTLE SIZED DEMON HOUNDS!”

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, and secretly wishing he had some ale or any other type of alcohol to settle his nerves, Jon stepped out and fully into sight of Cerberus.

The reaction of the great beast was immediate and violent, all three of the heads snapping towards the black-clad figure as he stood amongst the hoards of shrieking animals. Great barks began to tear three from the tri-fold throats, each one shaking the earth as the beast began to circle him, keeping the left side away and confirming his suspicions; it was injured.

That was only a small part of the puzzle, however, the rest of it came from actually getting around to help it in a way that would get the beast to trust him; something he had not truly thought about until this point.

Cerberus continued to pace all the while, barking away at him while Jon circled it in kind, knowing all too well that the great beast was more than capable of tearing him apart if it desired. Yet there was a fierce intelligence burning in its six eyes and he knew a simple way to try and establish some trust which consisted of taking off his sword and throwing it to one side.

All eyes followed it and he knew that it had near instantly been lost amongst the obese frames, but at the same time it was worth it to avoid being torn apart by the howling beast.

There was not a doubt in his mind that Cerberus was more than capable of leaping forwards and killing him without a thought even as he began to slowly circle around the beast of gluttony. Eight eyes followed him as he began to slowly pace around towards the injured side of Cerberus, six of them from the beast itself and two from Aerys who was staring at him with a look of such shock and amazement that Jon could practically feel the man’s thoughts slamming into him.

Nonetheless he managed to keep his focus on the task at hand, making sure to not break eye contact with the growling beast and keep his hands in a gesture of supplication.

It was only when it came about the left side of the great beast that he caught sight of the wound that had reduced it to a monster driven mad by agony. The wound was a great sword cut, longer than Jon was tall, and the weapon that caused it was still buried to the hilt in Cerberus’ side.

The hilt and cross guard of the weapon were visible and it was clearly a thing of beauty from the bit he could see at the moment. Clearly befitting a weapon, the size of a great-sword, it was entirely made of black steel with elegant gold and silver carvings layering the whole design. The handle was wrapped in black leather of an unknown creature, layered with elegant golden runes and a black cord, tied to which was another one of the massive golden feathers.

Even now, after seeing two of them, it was still enough to snatch his breath away and Jon nearly broke into a sprint as it began to call him although he was able to hold himself back although barely.

It was obvious now that the weapon remaining buried in the beast was the reason for its pain and so he began to creep slowly forwards. Despite the slamming rain, despite the squealing sinners around him, despite the feather shrieking in his mind for him to claim it, Jon forced himself to move slowly towards the beast.

There was a rather curious aspect that echoed in his mind as he drew closer; there was no blood pouring from the wound.

Despite the hilt befitting a weapon of massive size, and the cut that was well over a foot longer than Jon was tall, not a single drop of blood was falling from the wound. Rather gallons and gallons of water poured from the cut as if a great barrel had been hacked open with an axe, and it was not the same putrid filth-water that fell from the storm of putrefaction.

It was a crystal-clear water that fell from the wound, pouring out from inside Cerberus in a colossal stream, and he was able to see even more as he got even closer. The water was filled with razor sharp shards of ice that tore the wound even wider as more and more of the liquid ran down the beast’s side.

He found out the hard way how sharp they were as he drew even closer, keeping his hands in the gesture of supplication which unfortunately led to the icy shards running across his arms. Boiled leather kept his torso and legs mostly safe but his bare arms and hands had small nicks form from the shards and more continued to be sliced open the closer he got.

Hisses of pain escaped him as blood began to run down his sliced limbs, turning the water slowly red around him which whipped some of the sinners into a frenzy; gulping down the blood.

Cerberus itself immediately snapped towards the noise and it gave Jon the opening he needed to move forwards with rapid movements. The massive beast’s three heads turned back to him but it was far too late for the great beast to stop him as he lunged forwards and wrapped his hands around the weapon before giving it a great tug.

The weapon immediately felt right in his hands, the leather fitting his grip perfectly, although it was far lighter than he expected and he realised why as he pulled on the weapon. It came out without a blade, not having it snapped off but missing the blade entirely, and Cerberus let out a sigh of relief the moment it was out.

Jon quickly moved back, holding the bladeless hilt in one hand, and watched as a red light began to encircle the wound.

Cerberus, now without the weapon firmly embedded in his side, began to pant softly as the wound healed under the gaze of the red light. Flesh knitted in quick motions and fur rapidly regrew as the flow of icy water began to finally trail off while the wound grew smaller and smaller with sucking gulps. Eventually the wound sealed up fully and the fur finally returned, with Cerberus staring at him quietly.

Aerys himself stared weakly at Jon, terrified that the great beast was about to tear him into pieces, but the dark-haired teen didn’t even care.

Instead he was focussed entirely on the feather that was bound to the hilt with a black silken cord, fumbling weakly as he undid the bindings from around the flaming appendage. Immediately after it was done and the feather was loose in his hands, Jon clasped it between his fingers and the world, for him, was engulfed in a bright flash of light.

It was no different to the last two times that he had absorbed the flaming feathers, memories immediately bombarded his mind, flashes of names and faces of those he had known and those he was yet to know.

He saw king Robert, gorging himself on food and alcohol, staring at the serving waitresses during a great feast in the halls of Winterfell.

He saw a slaver, Yezzan in the eastern city of Yunkai, so morbidly obese that he could not even stand.

Walda Frey appeared in his mind, enjoying the foods provided by her grandfather, a shrewd man but one who would take care of his family.

More and more flashed by and though the darkness threatened to engulf his mind once more, the power within Jon had improved and this time he was able to fight it off although the flash of light had not just been limited to him and Aerys hadn’t been so lucky. The former king was sprawled weakly over the ground and Jon had to grab him to prevent him from being grasped and consumed by the mass of the sinners.

Yet another fact quickly became apparent to him; Cerberus itself had been affected by the flash of light though in a far different way to that which he was expecting.

Instead of whimpering in pain or being rendered unconscious by the flash of light and overwhelming strength of the feather, the beast of Gluttony was kneeling before him. It was an odd gesture, Cerberus having to bend its front paws in order to kneel properly, but it was more than enough for him to recognise the motion and wave off the great hound.

It stood slowly, still staring at him although the six eyes were now filled with a far different emotion than the pain-induced madness that had once lit them. Now the intelligence shone through clear as day and there was not a doubt in his mind that it was just as smart, if not more so, than many of the humans which he knew.

However, there was another connection burning within him, another thing that drove the beast of Gluttony to its knees in supplication to him, and he understood why the moment he reached into the power that the third circle provided.

It burned like a fire in his mind, far more powerful than any of the souls around him, and he realised precisely why a second later; it was far more powerful. Cerberus itself was part of Gluttony and as such could be influenced by the power.

Yet it would take time to put it to the test and starting small would be the key.

Kneeling and allowing him to place Aerys on its back was a start.

Carrying him away from Gluttony, away from the pounding storm of putrefaction and further into the unknown was even better.


	4. Greed and Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Gluttony out of the way, the easiest part of their journey now awaits them before the city of Dis...

Riding on the back of Cerberus was a bumpy experience, the great beast’s strides throwing him to and thro with each powerful bound.

The ground shook and many sinners were crushed to a fine paste under the clawed feet of the three-headed hound, but Jon paid them little mind. Even Aerys, unconscious and being tossed like a ragdoll by the monster’s leaping bounds, had not snatched his attention away from his focus which was split in its entirety between two tasks; guiding Cerberus and plotting a plan through the eternal storm.

It was not an easy thing to accomplish on the back of the bounding beast, with Jon admitting in one of his brief periods of respite that it would be easier to write a manuscript on horseback than fully focus on the broad back of the hellish hound.

Nonetheless, through a combination of force-of-will and the newfound power that burned even stronger inside of him with each of the flaming feathers collected, he managed to chart a plot through the storm of putrefaction. The rain had lessened towards the edges of the third circle, and the ground began to raise higher and higher into jagged mountains, like great teeth aiming to bite eternally into some great meal place just out of reach.

Alone, Jon and Aerys would never have been able to scale such massive peaks, the rock just too sharp and too slippery with the putrid water that they would never have been able to get a firm grip. Cerberus had no such limitations, for the massive pads on the bottoms of its feet were accustomed to gripping onto the slippery ground of Gluttony.

As such it continued to climb the elevated rock with little concern, standing at a near vertical angle at one point which required Jon to wrap one arm around the surprisingly light former king while holding them in place with the other.

It was then, as Cerberus continued to climb up, that Jon realised the king wasn’t light but rather he was getting far stronger. His clothes sticking to his skin highlighted the fact that muscle was forming along his limbs, and he quickly realised that his torso had bulked up even more, yet there was an unnatural power contained within the muscle.

However, the great beast was approaching the top of the mountain and he resolved himself to explore this new strength later, and instead commanded Cerberus to kneel on top of one of the great peaks. Grunting a little, he spotted a handhold in the rock and shifted, grabbing it with one hand and holding the still resting Aerys with the other. It was a precarious position, with him balancing between the giant hound and the rock, but he took a leaf from Bran’s book and pushed off with his legs, letting them slam into the rock and keep him firmly locked in place.

He took a brief moment to look down and nearly let go in shock, for it was now that he could see further down into the tomb, as Aerys had called it. For a while he had imagined it as a great cave buried under the earth, and in a way, he was right, but it was not a naturally formed one; this was an impact crater.

It stretched down, with concentric rings descending to the bottom one which was the ninth if he had been counting them correctly.

The ninth one was the only one he could make out in any form of detail and even that was only due to his years of living in the north. There was ice and snow in the ninth circle, covered by a thick mist but he was smart enough to recognise the vapours and the signature white and blue colouration.

In the circle ahead of them, the fourth, he could make out what looked like a thousand ants battling, throwing themselves against each other with reckless abandon although each appeared to have a grossly oversized head. Shaking his head, Jon began to scout a way down the mountainside towards the next ring, knowing all too well that the current situation took priority.

The sword hilt firmly on his belt and one arm wrapped firmly around Aerys, he let go with his other hand and balanced with his just his feet on the tiny footholds. It was a near vertical drop, but not a totally vertical one, and small footholds stuck out periodically enough for him to begin to plot a way down.

Sighing a little and pressing his back against the wall as hard as he could, Jon shifted his feet out the holds and let himself slide down the cliff-face. The experience was a painful one, sharp rocks cut into his back and tore at his clothes but he put up with it as best he could, instead jamming his feet into the nearest foothold and pausing on the face; staring out over the fourth circle.

There was still no detail about the beings which he could make out, but something that did catch his interest was a glowing point roughly halfway between the foot of the mountain and what appeared to be the entrance to the next circle. He had seen enough of the tomb of the arch traitor to recognise what it was, the next of the flaming feathers, and set his task as to travel through the circle to collect it.

Descending further and further down the mountain, it eventually flattened out enough for him to brace his feet and walk rather normally although the path was steep and treacherous. It certainly was not made easier by Aerys who still remained unconscious, his weight increased by the filthy water that soaked into his clothes.

Jon still carried him, but adjusted so that the man was slung over his shoulders which distributed the weight far more evenly and allowed him to increase his pace towards the next circle.

As he drew closer and closer, pain began to burn along his back from the cuts, but he pushed on even further until the ground flattened out and changed from volcanic rock to soft mud. Grunting as pain lanced through his back, he gently set Aerys on the ground and took a knee as exhaustion shot through every part of his body. Climbing down a mountain while holding a fully grown man was a straining task even for his increasing muscle mass.

Sitting, he looked out ahead of him, now able to see the sinners contained within the fourth circle for himself.

They were not ants as he had previously suspected, but rather they were people who appeared rather similar to how they had been in life even if they were currently in a state of nudity. What distinguished them from their previous lives were the colossal money bags that were attached to them, some of them holding them close, spiked chains hooking the golden weights to the sinners. They thrust the giant weights forwards with all the might they could muster, howling at the top of their undead lungs “WHY DO YOU WASTE?!”

Their opponents were similarly naked, yet their own money bags appeared to be things they did not want. The bag itself appeared made of their own skin, sliced away and regrow only to be cut off once more and used to construct the colossal storage device. Each of them unleashed daemonic howls as they tried in vain to push it away from them, only to have it shoved back towards them by the first group, all the while screaming “WHY DO YOU HOARD?!”

Back and forth went the weighs, some of them trying in vain to ditch their money in a vague attempt to hoard emotions and earthly goods while others tried in vain to force them to keep it forever.

Jon noted with a bit of grim amusement that it was not too dissimilar to a jousting match, with both sides eternally trying to force the other side to back down with a powerful blow. Unlike the training, however, there would never be a winner on the eternal battlefield of the greedy as they went about their brutal charges and slams.

A soft groan escaped Aerys and it drew his attention near instantly, head twisting to the older male as his eyes began to gently flutter. It took a number of minutes before the old man was finally able to open his eyes, but eventually he did and immediately caught sight of Jon who knelt in the mud beside him.

His descendant gave him a kind smile, with the former king just grunting and sitting up while rubbing at his temples “I take it that we are in the next circle now?”

Jon’s eyebrow cocked and he let out a little chuckle, sitting up and staring at him quietly “You could at least be happy, I could’ve left you on the back of Cerberus. Anyway, yeah, we’re in the next circle and I had to carry you down the mountainside. Trust me when I say that it was not fun at all. My back is cut apart and it stings like nothing else.”

The Mad King just rolled his eyes and stood slowly, shivering as the cold set into his sopping clothes while also trying in vain to brush off at least some of the mud “Well then, I should tell you about this place. This is the circle of Greed, the circle of those who desired material possessions above all else are punished. Often people end up confusing Gluttony and Greed. One of them is for sensations while the other is for material goods such as money.”

Jon let out a little hum, looking out over the fields of battling sinners “I saw the feather, its halfway through. Stick close to me and let’s see if we can find a safe path, you can tell me more while we walk along.”

Aerys nodded and together they began to walk, the mad king speaking with each step “The sinners here are rather simply divided. On one side you have those who wanted nothing but money, stealing and extorting to get every little half-penny they could lay their hands upon. Facing them down are those who spend money furiously, buying art and books and everything they can find and their heart desires. It is why they fight; they are each other’s anathemas…”

They continued to walk, eventually finding an open path through the battling sides, with Aerys continuing to talk all the while “I doubt we will face much difficulty in this path. Unlike Lust, which has the powerful winds, and Gluttony which has the pounding rain and the great worm Cerberus, this circle is mostly self-running. No demons are needed here to keep an eye on them, and there will be nothing offered here to you in order to tempt you to join them. Let us keep moving!”

Nodding, they began to make their way into the battling armies, and it appeared that Aerys was correct for their faced no disruption. The path itself was a bit tough to traverse, and they found themselves having to work their way around many of the battling sinners who had forced each other onto the section before them.

Yet despite that occasional annoyance, there was still no trouble for them and they made quick pace towards the feather.

Jon himself let out a soft grunt with each step as the pain from his back intensified, various wounds from the sharp rock beginning to add up now that the adrenaline was slowly fading away from his body. His back felt wet from the dripping blood, and he shifted uncomfortably but tried not to reveal the pain he was experiencing to Aerys, who kept moving onwards.

Up close, he could now feel the bone-shaking thuds of the colliding weights, quickly acknowledging the fact that any misstep would lead to shattered bones and perhaps even death at the hands of the raving sinners. Yet it really took no time at all for them to reach the centre of the circle, where Jon took hold of the feather and once more arched his back as the feeling overtook him.

Souls, sinners, spread across the lands.

There were more this time, peasants and lords alike.

Slavers who wanted people, viewing them more as cattle than beautiful souls of the Heavenly Father’s creation.

Master’s of coin, who would sell their children and family members for a single stag if only to increase their own personal fortunes.

Even peasants who would kill and murder and rape for pennies, some he could forgive for they only did it out of desperation but the murderers and rapists among them held a special bit of hatred in his heart although he did not know why.

Nonetheless it was over as quick as it began once more, and his back burned with pain as the power began to pour into him. The cuts sealed, somewhat, although six burning points of pain began to ignite along his back making his teeth grit and joints stiffen.

The flash of light had once more knocked Aerys into unconsciousness, and Jon reached out with a grunt of pain to sling him over his shoulder once more. As with Gluttony and Lust, his mind had been opened to the pathway through the muddy plains, he had been shown the safe spots and gaps between the two clashing armies and had been given a gateway to the next circle.

What was more of a surprise to him was the fact that he knew the next circle, despite Aerys having never told it to him. Knowing that they were heading towards the circle of Wrath while heading out of Greed.

A loud cry of pain escaped him as one of Aerys’ hands brushed over the burning points in his back, and he very nearly dropped the older male into the crushing blows of the other.

It was by some divine miracle that he even managed to keep his footing, although there was definitely a limp in his step as he made his way towards the gateway. Approaching the gateway, his ears suddenly picked up on a sound he was more than familiar with from the godswood of Winterfell; rushing water from a great river.

Moving forwards, the clashing armies began to split and it granted him view upon a colossal river of black, murky water that thundered and crashed ahead of him, snaking through a swampy landscape that filled him with unnatural fury.

Jon stepped forwards slowly, voices beginning to echo out in his mind.

He could hear the teasing voice of Theon, mocking him for his lineage, insulting him for every little flaw and error.

There was Catelyn, her voice full of hatred as she slapped him, ordered him around like he was little more than a slave although to her he supposed he was. Afterall, to a highborn lady, a bastard born to their husband would be ranked even lower than dirt yet it still made him furious.

Ned’s voice joined the rest, lying away, telling Jon that he didn’t know who his mother was, that he was too young to understand.

Yet there were others who had never stood against him, Arya’s voice, so young and sweet as it called him a failure. Called him a bastard. Called him a slave.

Robb’s joined her, and Jon felt the anger increase further, only snapping out of it when another bolt of pain echoed through his back. It was worse than all the others, and he fell to his knees as it burned through him, forcing a low whine of agony past his lips and into the air which earned a roar of approval from ahead of him; the sinners in Wrath screeching for him to join them in a sea of endless violence, to join them in an ocean of spilled blood.

More pain echoed through him as the souls screamed and howled, yet it was not from the wounds but rather from a hand that had been placed rather firmly on his back.

Looking down, Jon was surprised to find that Aerys was awake already, although his eyes were unfocused and his steps were shaky as he tried to push himself to his feet. Moving forwards, he placed a gentle hand on the older male’s arm and helped gently pull him to his feet.

A groan broke the man’s lips as he was pulled up, leaning heavily on Jon even as he spoke “I told you that it would not take us long to get through…”

Jon rolled his eyes and let out a roaring chuckle, slapping the man on the back which nearly sent him sprawling on the floor “Yeah, it would help if you weren’t unconscious the entire way. I cut my back a great deal carrying you down the mountain, and your arms didn’t exactly help when I was carrying you through Greed. By the old Gods, they bumped into the wounds so much that I nearly dropped you into them a few times.”

The Mad King let out a chuckle and slapped the teenager on the back “Best not use the old Gods as your faith when we pass through Heresy, you could very quickly end up dead. Regardless you forget that I am dead and you are not. I can see the full effect of each of the feathers which you collect and it affects me to a far greater degree than yourself.”

It had a far more adverse effect than Aerys expected, with Jon crying out in pain and going to his knees at the sudden and rough contact with the horrifically painful spot on his back.

His ancestor’s eyes widened and he moved forwards, drawing a knife from his belt and doing his best to cut away the clothing around his back. A difficult task, it was not, for the razor blade sharp rocks had already torn most of his shirt and fur cloak to pieces which left a few strips of fabric to slice away.

Yet he was in for a surprise, for there were no cuts along his back or at least none that matched up with the shredding damage that should have been there. Much rather there were six raw and inflamed scar points placed equally from each other along his back, each one with an exposed piece of bone poking through the skin. It was such a horrific sight that the former King dropped the dagger and clasped a hand over his mouth.

Jon had been enough people to recognise horror and did his best to stand, muscle rippling around the six bone points as he did “Aerys… What is wrong with my back?”

Shaking his head, the former King just turned away “I have an inkling as to why you are down here now but I cannot say… Just avoid anything touching your back for now, we don’t want anything making it worse…”

It was clearly making the younger man more and more panicked, with the older male stepping forwards and speaking in a voice that reminded Jon precisely how he had been such an effective ruler before his madness. The voice was commanding and carried an impossible weight “Listen to me boy. If what I suspect is true then you hold a far greater destiny than any living being, and the wounds on your back are part of it. For now, though, we cannot falter in our travels for the riverman only crosses once every day. If we miss it then we will have to wait here, and if we do then you will be trapped; mortal souls can only leave the tomb on a very certain day. Today is that day.”

Taking a deep breath, reflecting on the repository of sinners within him to calm down even a little, Jon gave a little nod followed by a shaky sigh “Alright… Tell me about this circle and the boatman…”

Staring at him with a dark gaze for a few more moments, Aerys gave a little nod and turned while beckoning him to follow “This is the circle of Wrath, although I have a suspicion that you knew that already…” Sighing upon seeing Jon nod, he continued “This is the river Styx, where those who lived in anger now reside. On the surface battle those who were actively angry in life while those who stewed silently in their rage, plotting fruitless revenge for a perceived slight, reside at the bottom of the swamp.”

Jon gave a weak nod, looking out over the swamp, now able to see the horrific sight of the warrior souls before him.

Unlike Gluttony, where the sinners had become less than animals, or Greed where the sinners were equally matched in their fury; Wrath was far more chaotic.

They tore and howled and roared like hunting dogs whipped into a frenzy, spittle flying from their mouths alongside myriad cursed. Blood stained the black waters red as the sinners tore at each other with fist and mouth, forcing their opponent’s heads under the murky water in attempts to drown them.

This time Jon was able to prevent himself from throwing up but only barely, staring in undisclosed horror at the base form of humanity before him.

Aerys himself did not seem nearly as phased, and Jon had to remind himself that this was the male who burned people alive for the sheer thrill of it, of course such scenes of violence would not phase him. He had seen a fair few executions in his relatively short life, but had never had to enter the field of battle himself and had not even taken a man’s life before, so found himself to be affected in a far worse manner.

Grunting, he shook his head and forced himself to stay close to Aerys who moved quickly along the sand of the shores, toes digging into the black substance while eyeing up the distant shapes.

Many of them looked the same to Jon, but the former king had a far sharper eye and lead them quickly towards a larger and more well defined one. At first no detail could be observed but with each metre covered, the dark-haired male could make out a colossal black skiff, upon which stood a tall man who gave them a harsh glare with each step taken closer.

For a brief moment, Jon confused him for Charon who had ferried them across the Acheron but the mistake was dispelled when Aerys stepped forth and called out “Phlegyas, it is Aerys Targaryen, we come before you requesting your passage across the Styx so as to traverse into Heresy and unto the rest of the great tomb.”

They stood tall for a moment, each party staring silently at one another until the man just sighed, gesturing to the boat “If it were perhaps any other day then I would turn you down, but I can sense the power in the boy from here, and other circumstances have arisen… Charon sent word ahead as to why you are here, and I find myself more amused with your tale than he, yet I find myself curious as to why one of the choir would be here of all places…”

Jon’s head cocked and Aerys affixed a cold glare upon Phlegyas which silenced him and sent him about his task, lowering the gangway so that they could walk upon the deck of his skiff.

It was something they did with great urgency, quickly hurrying on for it was clear that the old man had little patience, and the gangway was immediately pulled back into place by an unseen hand when they were onboard.

Pushing the boat off of the shore was a rather unsteady procedure performed by the old man’s supernatural muscle and a long pole. They stumbled a little, leaning on the side of the skiff as it began to move across the black waters, crushing all of the souls in its path with horrific shrieks of pain and violent crunches of bone.

The dark-haired male did his best to block it out, speaking to Aerys in a loud tone “So who is he? Phlegyas, I believe you said?”

Turning to him, Aerys let out a soft sigh “Before the Heavenly Father reigned supreme across all of creation, there were many pantheons in existence. They are all still there today, but lots of them have travelled far away from here so that the conflict will never continue. Well one of the pantheons was known as the Greek pantheon, and upon their high council was the God of war referred to as Aerys.”

Jon gave the old man a quick glance “He is the son of a god?” To which Aerys gave a little nod in response.

“Indeed so. Son of a mortal and the God of war. He is the father of Ixion and Coronis, the later of which is more important when it comes to telling his tale. His daughter, Coronis, met and quickly began a relationship with the God of the sun, prophecies and many other things called Apollo before she eventually became pregnant with their child. Unfortunately, Gods have many duties, and the sun God found himself called away from his wife’s side while she was still pregnant, during this time she fell in love with another man and had an affair in secret. The God quickly found out about this due to his powers and accounts differ on what happened. Some say that his father and king of the Gods Zeus killed her while others say it was himself or even his sister. Nonetheless the girl died and the child was cut from her stomach to keep it alive.”

Jon’s face grew still and stony, for he himself had been raised to believe he was a product of marriage outside of wedlock, but Aerys paid it no mind “Well… After this had occurred, Phlegyas found himself overwhelmed with grief and decided to repay the God for the murder of his child by burning down one of his many temples… Well the God did not take kindly to this and killed him with his own bow and arrows, condemning him to suffer in the Styx. Now when the Heavenly Father took over, he saw the grief suffered by Phlegyas and although the man had committed many sins from heresy to anger, he decided to be merciful and granted him the position of boatman of the Styx.”

Letting out a soft hum, he turned to the older man who was still pushing them along “I can see why he did it… I’m not saying that it was the right thing to do, but at the same time I understand precisely why he did it…”

Aerys gave a little shrug and turned to the front of the skiff “The next feather will probably be on the shore of the Styx, so sit back and enjoy the scenery for now. We will not be arriving there for a long while yet and I have little I wish to discuss.”

The response was rude, but Jon was in too much pain to argue, instead turning over and staring at the sinners who howled and bit and shrieked. Thoughts began to flood through his mind. Perhaps this would’ve been his fate had he not fallen here, consumed by anger and left to stew away at the bottom of the Styx, forever craving a revenge he would never get. Or perhaps he would end up in another one of the circles, Heresy was one that Aerys had mentioned and if there was one true God who had one a war to be called as such then standing against him would certainly be called as such.

Chuckling weakly, he settled back against the prow of the boat and did his best to block out the screams of pain and the cracks of breaking bone. Instead fixing his eyes upon the horizon and watching as thundering storm of Gluttony and the battle of Greed began to slowly fade away into the mist, leaving only the future ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the next two circles covered. In Inferno, there really isn't much detail given on these and so I did my best to keep it entertaining for you all. Luckily the next circle is Heresy, followed by Violence, Fraud and Treachery.  
> For the next few weeks, I'm going to start a story idea which I've had on my mind for a while, then it will be either Judgement or Undivided to get an update.  
> Also my work has been completed, and although I've got an exam coming up, it hopefully won't be too hard!  
> I hope you all enjoyed it!


	5. Heresy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Anger passed, it is now time for the duo to enter the city of Dis, and the start of the metaphysical sins of mankind.

The boat ground and creaked to a halt on a shore of black sand, the wrathful souls of the Styx still howling and shrieking at his back.

To call the rest of the boat ride eventful would be an understatement, many times the souls had attempted to board the boat which required Jon to blast them back with gusts of wind from the circle of Lust. Phlegyas batted a number of them aside with his pole and even Aerys did his best to help, taking a spare oar from the side of the boat and using it to crush the skulls of whatever unfortunate sinner stepped into his range.

Jon had bore witness to more than souls in that murky swamp, deep below the surface of the Styx he could see great beasts that leapt to and from various souls who lay underneath in the thick mud.

Some resembled great fish with teeth like those of a direwolf while others took the shape of great cats and dogs who paddled through the mush, tearing pieces off of the wrathful souls who howled in pain and indignation. Before entering the great tomb, such sights would’ve made him sick to his stomach but now he was barely even phased, just focussing on beating back the various souls as the end came into sight.

He found it curious at first that there was no flaming feather floating atop the great mire and it was now that he understood why for when the shore came into view, there was a great light burning upon one of the shores. Phlegyas began to guide them towards it with his pole, leaving the two to fend off the souls themselves though it was far less of a difficult task now; towards the shoreline there were far less souls, the rest having run off to the great battle.

It impacted the sand with a horrific scraping noise and the two were given just enough time to leap to safety before the ferryman pushed off with his pole and set back along his journey to Greed.

Slowly they made their way up the shore, some of the souls daring to leap forth from the dark waters in a vague attempt to drag them back in only for Jon to growl and sweep his arms wide. Ever since taking on the form of wind, he had realised how exactly he was supposed to use the winds of Lust and the ride upon the skiff had given him a great deal of practice. Though he was still rather unrefined in his usage of the wind, more and more memories were flooding back to him as he approached the feather, memories of a previous life.

It was enough to give him a bit of control, able to throw blasts of powerful wind that tore through the wrathful souls with ease. They were flung back into the water with rather sickening crunches, being sucked down into the mud or losing their interest in the duo as a different soul came into reach.

Aerys took the lead, though even he could sense that Jon would quickly grow beyond the need for a guide, his motions were becoming more fluent by the second as he grew quickly accustomed to Hell.

Finally, they climbed the flood-bank of the marsh and stood upon the hill of dark mud, staring over the wrathful mire. Some of the souls stared at them hatefully but they did not approach, perhaps fearful of leaving the mire or perhaps unable to stray too far from the murky waters. No matter the reason, the two were thankful and Jon reached out to take the feather which sunk into his hand with a flash of bright light.

He did not collapse at this point, and neither did Aerys, the two of them quickly becoming resilient to the effects of the blinding light. It still clearly had an effect, the former King and the bastard Prince were sent stumbling away, with Jon being the worst affected of the two of them; clutching his head as his mind sorted through the new memories and abilities.

Many would’ve died by now, but it melded seamlessly to him and the burning pain from his back increased, drawing a low grunt of pain from his mouth and nearly sending him to his knees. Aerys quickly hurried to his side, sliding Jon’s arm over his shoulders and helping him to his feet but the discomfort and agony was still affecting him rather harshly.

Grunting, he accepted the aid from his ancestor as they moved slowly through the muddy area, the thick substance clinging to their shoes and trousers yet in was nothing in comparison to Jon’s pain.

Sensing that the injuries on his back were growing worse, he tore off the remnants of the shirt which he had cut earlier to see them in the first place and froze once more because the stumps of bone growing out of his skin had extended. Only around two inches long and still capped with exposed bone, they had grown and thick skin now covered the bases thought it was still an angry red.

Humming in concern for he partially knew what was happening, Aerys just tossed the remains of the shirt away before looking down at his relative quietly “Jon, I will be honest with you, I’ve got an idea of what is happening to you but trust me when I say that I cannot tell you despite how much I want to. You need to stand up and we need to keep moving, if I am right then this will only get worse for you as we get further and further into the tomb but at the end you will find that it will have all been worth it.”

Jon was gasping in pain leaning forwards in a vague attempt to halt some of the pain that was lancing through his back, but managed a weak nod in response before slowly climbing back to his feet.

His movements were noticeably slowed now thanks to the pain shooting through him but with an arm from Aerys, he was able to move slowly forwards in heavy, limping steps. As they moved slowly forwards, the black sand of the Styx began to fade away, bleeding into cracked granite that transitioned once more to polished marble, which caught a small fragment of Jon’s attention and made him look up.

Great walls loomed before him, dwarfing even the icy creation which separated the North from the South.

Constructed from burnished gold and polished marble, Jon felt a strange sense of familiarity when gazing upon them, something that was clarified by Aerys “These walls were constructed by the Arch-Traitor during his rebellion from Heaven. They were made as a facsimile of Heaven’s own walls, but were made in a mocking light for the fortresses that guard the gates are in the design of mosques.”

A curious look made him continue “There are many variations of the religion surrounding the Heavenly Father, and although they share many of the same traits, there is only one true path to the white city. Mosques are the temple of one such variation, I won’t go into detail for now, but know that this place as a whole is a mockery of the white city.”

Letting out a deep chuckle, Aerys continued walking slowly towards the colossal walls with Jon leaning heavily upon him “This place we are about to enter… It is the stronghold of the fallen Angels, the city of Dis and more concerningly the capital building of Pandaemonium… During the arch-traitor’s war against the Heavenly Father, this building was used as his headquarters and even now it is used as a symbol of power by the Stygian council… We must be brave and not show weakness, a single falter will lead to our deaths.”

Jon could not help but give him a rather worried look and it made Aerys sigh “I do not wish to cut through here but we have little choice. The last human to pass through Hell, a man by the name of Dante, was not being tested but rather cleansed and so did not have to pass through here. The Heavenly Father wishes to make sure you are worthy of what will come, however, and so we must stand before the Stygian Council…”

A soft growl escaped the older man and he let out a curse under his breath before continuing to walk towards what appeared to be a gateway in the wall of polished marble and gold.

Two great towers manned the entrance as they approached and as they got closer still, they could see beings standing on the walk ways. They were of man’s shape but different, taller and stronger, with perfect skin and eyes that shone red with fire. Each held a lance of black iron and was dressed in armour of the same material but it was what hung behind them that snatched Jon’s attention most of all; wings.

They were big, each wing was easily longer than he was tall, holding an appearance not too dissimilar to that of a bat yet they did not hold the paper-thin skin but rather each one was packed with thick muscle.

As the two men made their way towards them, Jon made sure to let go of Aerys and stand as straight as he could despite the agony that burned through him. Perfect timing for the figures suddenly turned and their eyes locked onto the approaching duo, one of them vanished with a flap of its wings and Jon tutted a little “Seems like we’re going to have some company.”

Aerys nodded “Indeed so… Though the terminology regarding these beings calls them demons, refer to them as the fallen or the rebellious ones… Perhaps it will persuade them to not tear us apart as slowly and painfully as they so wish.”

Grunting a little, Jon shrugged and continued to move as the great gates let out a deep creak before grinding slowly open “I don’t think a bit of flattery will stop them either way. Come on, lets get in and out, I want to scream just moving like this and don’t want to have to do it for any longer than necessary.”

The look given was a rather concerned one but the former king nodded and they slipped quickly through the open gate.

In the fortress beyond, Jon was treated to sight he would never have expected to see, a fortress temple so massive that for a brief moment that he thought that he had stepped outside. Yet as they stepped forwards, he caught sight of the colossal roof of polished marble which stretched upwards in a great dome. Artwork of an incredible standard layered the ceiling, depicting a great battle between the winged fallen of the pit streaming forth from a flaming crack in the earth and flying up towards an army of white-winged beings who marched out from golden gates in the sky.

The pain faded a bit as his attention was snatched, and he walked slowly onwards into the fortress temple, looking at more and more of the paintings.

There was one of a great council on thrones, shouting at a man of indescribable beauty with six great wings of fire that spread across the room. Dressed in simple white robes, there was an aura of power surrounding the being even through a painting on the rooftop, and it was obvious that it was affecting those in the painting as well.

Aerys spoke from behind him, his tone quiet and revering “I will not say the name, for they have great power here and we do not need such attention upon us, but lay your eyes upon the arch-traitor himself. The painting depicts him standing before the Stygian council, convincing them through power and charisma that they should wage war upon the white city… They did indeed go to war that day, and drew within striking distance of the celestial choir, before the greatest of the Heavenly Father’s servants emerged.”

With one hand, he gestured to the largest and most brilliant of the paintings, depicting the arch-traitor standing off against another giant of a man. The new figure shared the wings of flame, yet they were bigger and burned with an even brighter light, stretching across the horizon. His face was obscured by flame, leaving only a glowing body to be seen, with his hands each holding tightly onto an object.

In his left hung a pair of golden scales which were lifted high into the air and in his right was a great-sword nearly as long as his body. Rather curiously though, he held the weapon with one hand as if unaffected by the weight, and the blade itself was formed of a clear substance that he recognised as ice.

Aerys chuckled and spread his arms wide “Gaze upon the final battle of the war of the fallen, where the angel of judgement leapt forth from the gates of Heaven alongside the first angel to beat back the armies of the fallen. That painting depicts the angel of judgement facing down the arch-traitor in single combat, a duel which he won and sent him crashing to the Earth, forming the very pit we now stand in from the impact.”

The younger of the two stood silently, staring up at the great painting with an odd expression in place before a touch from his ancestor snapped him out of the stupor “Come on… Let’s get moving…”

Nodding, they quickly began to make their way through the cavernous hall and towards the golden doors on the other side that creaked slowly open as they approached.

Beyond the gateway was a black landscape of jagged, volcanic rock punctuated only by what appeared to be black burial mounds. Smoke poured from the top in great clouds that billowed over the plains towards them, and when they swept over the duo, Jon was bombarded by the smell of smoking flesh and bone.

Grunting and holding one hand over his nose in a vague attempt, he began to walk alongside Aerys as they descended from the gateway and moved further into the circle which Aerys began to explain “This is Heresy, and the first of the circles which move beyond physical sins and into metaphysical ones, crimes of human nature. This is the circle in which non-righteous heretics are punished, those who followed other religions but were cruel in their worship.”

He let out a little sigh “Following the Lord of Light or the Old Gods is enough to land you down here if you kill or persecute in their names… Trapped forever in a flaming tomb until you are rendered little more than ash upon which the next heretic is placed in a never ending cycle. Perhaps it is one of the harsher circles but it is the one in which those who have turned away from the Heavenly Father are placed, so it is perhaps fitting.”

They slowly moved onwards, boots clicking on the black stone underneath them, taking care to not step too close to the great maws that lined each tomb. Moving onwards, Jon caught sight of more of the fallen flying above them, red eyes locked firmly onto them.

Forcing himself to stand up, he moved slowly past the tombs and did his best to ignore the howling souls buried deep inside of them. Some of them had souls which attempted to crawl free, only to be held in the flames by chains of twisted iron. Jon forced himself to look forwards, trying to ignore the screams of agony and the looks of pain that twisted their features into ones little better than animals.

With a deep growl, Jon continued to slowly move through the fields of black rock, ignoring the screaming souls and the fallen who flapped around above them.

Aerys looked a lot more composed than he and he put it down to the fact that the older man wasn’t in constant and burning pain. With each step it grew harder and harder for him to keep composed and it was only through self-control that he did not scream in pain as he advanced further and further into Heresy.

More and more of the flaming mounds passed them by and Jon took some time to examine them in a bit of detail for these mounds did not possess screaming sinners, only silent bodies.

Upon the top of each mound was a plaque of silver engraved with names, tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of names. None of them he recognised but the significance was not lost upon him; it was the name of each sinner which had been thrown into the flaming mounds. Presumably when they had turned to ash, their name was inscribed upon the tomb by the fallen and then the next heretic was pushed into the fire.

Such a system disgusted him deep down, and he stopped looking at the names as anger lanced through his heart. In the distance, more and more of the burial mounds became visible only these ones were not being left alone.

While the earlier heretics had been furious, ramming into iron chains in an attempt to break free from the mounds, and the latest ones had been docile and near dead; these were in mournful agony.

Great screams of pain echoed across the land and he saw why, standing above each mound was a member of the fallen. In their hands, they held great chunks of metal that were stuck into the roaring flames of the mounds until white hot, before being removed and pounded with great hammers into new shapes. Spears and swords were being forged before his very eyes, the weapons of the fallen strengthened in the misery and suffering of mankind.

He almost went to lunge at them, only to be stopped by Aerys’ hand and the shrieking laughter of the fallen above “Stop. Starting a battle here will do nothing but get us killed, these people are being punished for their sins, don’t let pity cloud your judgement and lead to your demise as well.”

A growl tore free from his lips but he forced himself to remain back, taking heed of the words even as anger coursed through his heart.

Moving slowly forwards, they made sure to keep a wide berth from the flaming mounds and the fallen who hammered away yet something curious occurred as they approached. As they moved past, there was a brief flash of fear in the eyes of each fallen, why was something that he did not know but it was a type of fear he recognised for it had shown itself in him many times before. It was the fear of something that had happened before, and they did not wish for it to happen again.

Onwards they went, through mounds forging armour to more silent ones, until finally they reached the inner section of Heresy and the most violent of the souls. Here they bayed and snapped like the wild beasts of Anger and Jon had no doubt at all that it was only their faith that stopped them from being buried deep within the swamp of the Styx.

More and more of the fallen began to trail after them as they walked along, Jon could practically feel the fire of their eyes lancing into his back, and focussed entirely on the burning pain from his shoulders to keep his gaze straight.

Ahead of them came a building to put even the great walls of Heresy, the guardians of the city of Dis, to shame and he could only assume that the palace before him was made over a great deal of time for its magnificence stole his breath. Constructed of the same gold and marble as the walls of Dis, the magnificence could not even be compared for it was beyond anything that mankind would ever or ever had constructed.

The red keep, the ruined city of Valyria, hell nothing in the seven kingdoms were even close to equalling the magnificent golden palace before them. In terms of size it was rather small, probably only a bit larger than the red keep itself but at the same time it far surpassed it in terms of design. From the pillars to the portcullis of polished gold, every centimetre of the castle was made to an incredible standard, and it made sense for Aerys and Jon stood before Pandaemonium, the capital building of the tomb and seat of power for the Stygian council.

Rather curiously, the great golden gates lay open before them and the following fallen paused as they stepped closer, Jon offering a whisper to Aerys as they walked “It looks to me that we are expected…”

Aerys could only give a weak nod and they slowly made their way across a colossal drawbridge, the fallen forming a great ring around the portcullis as it slowly rumbled and grinded its way back to a closed position. With nothing behind them, the duo continued to walk slowly across the bridge and approached the massive doors of Pandaemonium which creaked open like the portcullis and the gates of Dis.

No name was inscribed over the massive doors and they walked in quickly, with the doors slamming shut behind them with bone shaking force.

Jon gave a little shiver; with no eyes he was allowed to show a bit of weakness “I’m worried but I don’t think we’ve got a choice but to go forwards now… You mentioned that this was the seat of power for the arch-traitor, are we likely to encounter any of them when we enter?’

His ancestor could only shrug in response “The Stygian council is vast, we are more than likely to encounter some of the fallen when we enter, but its what members we encounter that matter the most. There have been many attempts by both humans and the servants of the white city to try and classify the leaders on the council, but it is known only to them. High ranking members include… I should not say the names here, if we enter and they are there then I shall say for I do not wish to attract their attention.”

Another nod was given by Jon and they began to make their way through the great halls of Pandaemonium, eventually coming across a great archway which lead beyond into what could only be described as a council chamber.

It appeared empty and they slowly walked forwards, entering at the top of a great amphitheatre with a colossal hemisphere at the centre which would raise the one atop it above all the others. Taking it slowly and carefully, Jon and Aerys began to creep down the stairs towards the hemisphere, being sure not to disturb the many seats that rested along the walls of the amphitheatre.

Jon already knew that was coming, atop the great hemisphere hung one of the flaming feathers and it took only a few minutes for them to make it first to the bottom of the stairs and then ascend the hemisphere.

When they stood before the flaming feather, Job took a moment to stare around the room “I have a sinking feeling that when I take this something bad will happen… Every time I have taken one of these feathers, my newfound powers have grown a great deal but at the same time I’ve been put in a great deal of pain… When I take this, I need you to help me to my feet so that we can run, because I don’t want to find out what is coming.”

Aerys gave a nod of agreement “Neither do I. I may not be the strongest of men but I can do my best to support you as we move, I’m just concerned that if I grab you then I may end up making your injuries worse.”

The teen could do little more than grunt and shrug “I have a feeling that if we stay here, what comes next will give me worse ones.”

Grunting once more, Aerys sighed and rolled his shoulder in preparation for helping Jon while the teen reached out and gripped the feather. His back arched a little in agony as one pair of the bone stumps grew out more and more, raw and bleeding flesh inching up and wrapping around them even as memories flooded his mind.

He saw heretics and sinners alike from all corners of the world gathered against the one true creator, from the wildlings to the priests of the seven to the worshipers of the lord of light. All of them were people harming and stealing from the others in the name of faith, something that annoyed him particularly much for they did not even attempt to mask their heresy against the Heavenly Father.

His mind slowly came back to him and Jon realised that he was walking, leaning heavily on the shoulder of Aerys and his face twisted in pain for the former king’s hand was wrapped tightly around one of the small bone stumps.

It very nearly drove him to his knees and the only thing that kept him on his feet was the sound of the door at the back of the cavernous room banging open as another fallen strode in. This one was tall, and his wings were numbered at four, with feathers surprisingly enough of a pinkish colour which stretched wide behind him. One of his legs was rather obviously damaged, wrapped in an intricate metal brace, but his body was otherwise perfect including his face which had a sort of rugged handsomeness through brown hair, tanned skin and a close-cropped beard.

In his hands hung two walking sticks which tapped loudly on the polished marble but he showed no signs of discomfort.

As Aerys and Jon hurried quickly through the doorway, leading further into the great tomb, Jon looked backwards and froze. The feather had awakened more memories inside of himself and he knew the fallen before him, the name flashed through his mind like a bolt of lightning: the prince of Lust, Asmodeus.

The fallen caught sight of him as well and froze in absolute shock, the amicable look fading from his face to be replaced by one of sheer terror as the winds of Lust stirred inside Jon with a newfound power.

He knew why it was happening instinctively; Asmodeus was the prince of Lust, it only made sense that the powers of Lust would increase in strength when he was near.

It still didn’t stop him from throwing the fallen through the marble walls with a burst of the super-charged winds.

A loud curse escaped Aerys and quickly he began to limp onwards, supporting Jon as best he could “Listen to me right now, we are about to have the armies of the fallen slamming down on us. I don’t know how you threw him like that but for the love of the Heavenly Father, please do it again without passing out if we come across another fallen.”

Jon let out a weak grunt and did his best to keep moving “That fallen… Asmodeus… I knew him! How did I know him?!”

His words were silenced by a harsh slap round the face by Aerys “LISTEN! Never say the names of the fallen, they hold great power in this place and if you hadn’t have blasted him away then there’s not a doubt in my mind that he would be at our location right now! We need to run Jon! If we don’t run then we will die!”

The teen nodded, rather shocked with the slap, but did his best to stand and run forwards despite the pain still lancing through his back. In the distance there was the sound of great drums being pounded and Jon nearly stopped dead in his thoughts.

For a brief moment another name floated through his mind, a memory from another time when he had… He could not remember, but the drums reminded him of a heartbeat belonging to some nameless creature in a time before the sun itself even shone, yet he should not have been able to know such things.

Dragged onwards, he could only sit back and listen as Aerys spoke “We need to keep moving to the next circle, its our best change to lose them! In the circle of Violence!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is confusing for some people, I've tried to blend together multiple teachings and interpretations here from Dante's city of Dis, to John Milton's Pandaemonium to Agrippa's classification of demons with a sprinkling of Peter Binsfeld.  
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, now ima go get some sleep.


	6. Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seventh circle has arrived and the Fallen are hot on their tail. A race against time has started: will they make it to the burning desert or will the Fallen run them down in the forest of suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... I know this is a few days late, but I felt sick and just lost motivation on it rather suddenly: nonetheless I did the best I could and to those who know about the full Divine Comedy then you will hopefully have guessed where this is going. Nonetheless I hope that you all enjoy it! The next chapter of this will take a bit longer, for Fraud is a far larger circle than any other.

Their advance through the halls of Pandaemonium was somewhat hampered by Jon, the pain from his back was increasing with each passing moment.

Behind them, alarms began to ring, great bells of cast iron being tolled by the fallen to alert all that there was an intruder within their city. The panic from it was what allowed Jon to keep moving, adrenaline pumping through his system allowing him to ignore just a little bit of the pain and stumble along with the aid of his grandfather.

The sound of marching warriors incentivised them to hurry and after a brief moment where Jon was forced to his knees, barely holding in a scream of pain, they managed to hurry past the halls of Pandaemonium and out through a back door.

Not nearly as lavish as the great gates, the blackened wood of the door was still a means of escape and they hurried out into the next circle of torment: Violence.

Yet it was not a straight path directly to the circle, rather before them lay yet another wall, only this one was in a far worse state of repair. Formed not of polished marble and gold, this wall was formed of black granite only it was not well maintained, the guard posts had crumbled and cracks wide enough for Jon to walk through unhindered layered along the wall, how it remained standing was something even he could not understand.

There was one true opening into the circle that Jon could see, and yet as they began to make their way towards it, Aerys grabbed his arm “Be careful as we make this portion of the journey. The threat here is not to be underestimated: a beast of eternal cruelty, the Infamy of Crete, is the guardian of Violence.”

The teen’s head cocked and Aerys sighed “Right, I forgot that you would not have heard of it, such tales have long since been forgotten by mortal men. Long ago, before the Heavenly Father ruled over the heavens, there were many different types of God that ruled which included the Seven, the Old Gods, even the Lord of Light… Yet out of all of them, the Grecian pantheon ranked as amongst the most powerful before they were deposed… We will meet some more members of their pantheon on our travels, but that comes later.”

He grunted as they kept moving and, in the distance, there came the roar of some great beast “Their God of the oceans, Poseidon, had demanded a sacrifice from a king… A king who we met before, a king by the name of Minos.” Jon’s head shot up even as they moved along and Aerys chuckled “Yeah I didn’t see it coming either. Anyhow Minos had a bull, a very special one that Poseidon himself demanded be sacrificed in his name but Minos had no intention of parting with his prize creature. As such he sacrificed a regular bull for the God of oceans, something that had dire consequences.”

The ground was beginning to shake around them, the cracked rock shaking back and forth under the footsteps of some great beast even as Aerys continued “Poseidon, like all of the false Gods, had a great temper. This disobedience at one of his personal commands could not be overlooked, and so he set a curse on Minos’ wife. The very same bull that was supposed to be sacrificed for the God now because the object of her affections, until the desire grew too great and she… Well…”

Jon shuddered a little bit and Aerys laughed “Now you’re getting it. Anyhow she perhaps wasn’t keeping track of her birthing cycles or perhaps Poseidon was feeling extra cruel but nine months later, out comes the Infamy of Crete, the monster of the Labyrinth, the Minotaur.”

He let out a snort “That would never happen, probably just that… That foul pretender cursing someone who did not deserve it…” A deep bout of anger ripped through him at the thought of referring to something else as a God, it left a disgusting taste in his mouth at the mere thought of it.

Aerys gave him a deep look “If you… say so… Nonetheless, no matter the cause it happened, and the Minotaur had been born with all of Poseidon’s rage at Minos infecting its heart. Though him and his wife tried to love it, it simply grew more furious as it grew older until eventually, they had no other choice but than to seal it deep within a Labyrinth created by Daedalus who was a legendary inventor at the time.”

Each step began to grow louder and louder, deeper and deeper as the beast approached “Eventually this abomination, this fusion of man and bull, was slain by a hero named Theseus. Yet in death the being’s rage only grew and it committed more and more atrocities in the afterlife until the Heavenly Father and his legions marched forth for control of the Heavens. In the aftermath, the Minotaur was banished to the circle of Violence to atone for its sins until the Arch-Traitor released it during the rebellion and appointed it as a guardian of the gates. When the Lord of Judgement cast down the Arch-Traitor in the final days of the rebellion, he saw no reason to remove it from the post.”

Finally, the minotaur stomped into view and Jon felt terror corrupt his heart at the sight of the abomination that stood before them.

It was tall, he had seen houses shorter than the beast which stood before him now, and he struggled to believe that it had been born from a mortal woman. Its body was one of a man’s, all rippling muscle and thick scar tissue from a millennium of conflict both in life and in death. A torn loincloth was all that hid the beast’s manhood, and the only other remnants of clothing on it was a thick belt holding an axe of equal height to the monster.

Yet the head was the most horrifying part of the creature, for it was not the head of a man but rather one of a rabid bull. Saliva and other fluids dripped from sharpened teeth as bloodshot eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, curled horns extending from the temples.

Even Aerys looked rather weary as it approached, stopping before them and unleashing a deep snort, sending gouts of steam billowing across the earth around them. Jon forced himself upright, ignoring the urge to scream as his injured back moved around, and faced the beast down as he watched them both. There was a crude intelligence behind those eyes, ruled by bestial fury but still very much present, and Jon knew that weakness would be punished by the guardian of Violence.

Finally, it seemed to have judged them worthy and stomped past them with another deep snort, though Jon had the rather worrying feeling that it was on the verge of turning around and cutting them down.

Leaning heaving on his grandfather’s shoulder, they began to make their way quickly into Violence before the minotaur returned, and Jon managed to get his first glimpse of the seventh circle.

He had heard tales of rivers of blood before but nothing could ever have prepared him for the horrific fate that lay before him. A heavy smell of copper and searing flesh filled the air as they approached the river, a great yet terrible thing of rushing blood that boiled and bubbled, sending great geysers of blood high into the air.

Yet despite the river of gore before them, the worst part came from the pour souls submerged in the waters. Some had their legs under the surface of the boiling blood while a few of the unluckier ones thrashed and howled with only a few tufts of their hair above the surface. However, a worse fate befell those who tried to escape up the banks for they were seized and either shoved back in, or had their guts removed with hooked blades and allowed to bleed out, their own fluids restoring the waters.

Their torturers were easily mistaken as mounted warriors at first, until they approached and Jon realised that they were not mounted but rather were a fusion of man and horse. The upper torso of a man fused with the legs and body of a horse, yet it was a far more seamless fusion than the minotaur.

Each of them was armed with the same hooked blade and a number of arrows, alongside a large bow that they used to shoot most of the escaping souls back into the boiling viscera below them.

As they approached, Jon took note of a number of the same cracks as had layered the wall were also lining the banks of the river. It was something that Aerys also took notice of and explained in a rather calm tone “When the Heavenly Son was crucified many years ago, a great earthquake shook the tomb as a sign that the ‘Harrowing of Hell’ was to begin.”

Once more confusion reared its ugly head, though the name sounded familiar to him, a flash from a distant memory as Aerys continued “The Harrowing of Hell was when the Heavenly Son emerged into the tomb. Before his resurrection, he took the good men who were wrongly imprisoned in Hell during the rebellion of the arch traitor, and his presence was strong enough to crack the walls and the very earth of Hell as he passed through.”

Jon let out another hum, mixed with pain as the burning sensation struck his back once more, before they began to move forwards once more. Loud screams of pain followed at their backs as the creatures, so named as centaurs by Aerys, continued to push them back into the boiling blood.

Slowly they made their way along the river and Aerys pointed out two amongst the centaur’s ranks who carried themselves with a greater sense of wisdom and strength “Chiron and Pholus, greatest amongst their ranks. Chiron in particular is a being of great strength for he was fathered from the titan of time: Cronus… They are the greatest of their kind, the wisest and most learned in the arts of both science and other areas of study… You could learn much from them if we had enough time to stay here.”

The two beings had turned to them as they passed through and Jon gave them a little nod, one that was quickly returned as they continued on their way.

Following the river, Jon began to look at the souls which they passed, none of them held any significance to him although there were some who shared the white hair and purple eyes of the Targaryens. Aerys named them as they passed but the teen found himself not paying attention and instead kept walking along with his eyes tracing out every bit of suffering on their faces, trying to guess who they had killed to be tortured in such a manner.

Continuing to walk, Jon took note of the fact that the river of blood was beginning to grow shallower and shallower, with the souls barely submerged in the foul liquid. These were the people who had harmed others and yet they were not such monsters as to be fully submerged in the boiling fluid.

Slowly they stepped forwards and watched as the river of blood began to split, on one side it flowed back in a great arch towards where they had originally started while on the other side the blood seeped through the cracks. It poured ahead, eroding away the rock between the cracks until it eventually joined together in a smaller yet no less gory stream that flowed towards a forest of black trees.

They were great twisting affairs that stretched high into the sky, and Jon could not help but compare it to a twisted version of the Godswood at Winterfell. Even at the great distance, he could see the roots of the trees drinking deep from the blood of the violent.

Slowly the duo continued to advance towards the black forest and Jon was struck by the sudden realisation that they were speeding up, the circle of Violence had so far been passing by them with a seemingly impossible swiftness. Even now, advancing towards the forest, the world seemed to be hurrying by them at a pace which should have been impossible to achieve by any mortal man.

Yet as the horns of the Fallen began to echo across the bloody river, he suddenly had the urge to stop dwelling on it and simply be thankful that they were able to clear the distance in such little time.

As the hunting parties of the Fallen entered Violence, Jon and Aerys fled into the forest of twisted trees which howled and groaned in a manner far too similar to a person for the teen’s liking.

As they walked, Aerys continued to speak though his tone was hushed and far more silent “This place… It is the forest of suicide… This circle is that of Violence, the previous section was for those who were violent to others, and this is the section of those who are violent to themselves. If you commit suicide, you are reformed into one of these trees where you are tortured by the harpies until the end of time…”

Jon looked around, eyes shifting slowly over the gnarled and howling trees and he felt a rather deep sense of dread. The moaning was now explained and he couldn’t help but feel rather sick, attempting to keep his limbs as far away from the trees as possible.

In the distance there was the sound of the hunting parties, but it sounded muffled, the sound and movements of both parties obscured by the wailing trees and the smell of copper and rotting wood. As they moved slowly along the banks of the river of blood, the trees around them began to show signs of growth, reaching higher into the sky with branches covered in thorns and thick slash marks from an unknown source.

Blood was pouring from the gashes and voices, tinny and screaming in agony, echoed out from the wounds. They were speaking so many languages and so quickly that Jon felt his head almost spin on his shoulders because of it.

They kept moving forwards, the river of blood slowly starting to cool beside them until eventually they could no longer hear the horns of the Fallen and Aerys let out a sigh of relief, collapsing to his knees and panting heavily. His grandson did much the same, laying on his stomach on the floor and trying to breathe properly as the exhaustion and agony caught up with him.

A wheezing chuckle escaped the former king “We were lucky… The forest of suicide is a place of such misery that the Fallen will never manage to find us, it’ll give us enough time to make it through the burning desert and escape down into Fraud… Then it is only a matter of escaping through the 10 malebolge and persuading the giants to carry us into Treachery…”

An eyebrow cocked in response and Aerys sighed before explaining “The 10 malebolge, or ‘evil ditches’ are the means of punishing souls guilty of the sin of fraud… Nonetheless that comes later, first we must escape through here without being spotted by the harpies and traverse the burning desert. That is the place of punishment for those who are violent to the Heavenly Father, nature and artwork…”

He gave a weak nod “What… Are the harpies?”

Yet another sigh “I suppose I should tell you… You have seen the minotaur and the centaurs, so would it be so difficult to imagine a fusion of woman and bird?” Jon pondered for a moment before shaking his head as his grandfather continued “They are hags with wings and talons, who fly endlessly around the forest and torture whoever they encounter.”

His eyes turned to the various wounds in the trees and shivered a little bit for he was without armour or weapons and judging by them, the talons were very large.

When they had rested sufficiently, Jon managed to struggle to his feet by leaning rather heavily on one of the gnarled trees and as he stood, one of his hands reached out and snapped off one of the small twigs poking out of the side.

Immediately there was a low moan of agony from the tree, yet it was a great deal clearer and he snapped upright, backing away as a voice began to ring out. Still echoing with pain, blood leaking from the broken twig, it was melodic and rather young “Hello… Is someone there…”

Both men turned to the tree and Jon spoke up in a shakier tone “Erm… yes… who are you?”

The voice rang out again “I’m Ashara… I think… Its been so long… Do you know my… No, he died a long time ago, Ned Stark… He killed him…”

Jon’s eyes widened and it suddenly hit him who he was talking to and he walked closer, resting his hand gently on the gnarled tree “Your name… Ashara Dayne, brother of Arthur Dayne…” It was a name that he knew well because, for a long time, he had believed her to be his mother after hearing the many rumours.

He had the feeling that if the being before him was human still, it would be nodding “Yes… Your voice… You’re from the North?”

“Aye… Son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen…” It was all he could find to say.

“Heh… There was a war fought over them… I lost my brother to it… Tell me… Did they love each other? Was the war truly fought… Over a rape… Or simply over a man’s jealousy?” Her voice was full of sadness, a type only caused by the loss of a loved one over something pointless and yet Jon could not bring himself to lie.

“I’m sorry… They were married… Though the war was mostly started by the murders of Brandon and Rickard Stark… They were married and it is what brought Robert into the war…”

There was a creaking noise from the branches and Jon realised with a stab of guilt in his heart that she was sobbing. She had thrown herself into the ocean at the revelation that her brother was dead at the same time she had birthed a stillborn daughter, it was no surprise to Jon that she would break down upon realise that her brother had been cut down due to the jealous of the fat king.

Reaching out, he placed a soft hand on the branch of the tree “You shouldn’t be suffering like this… You have lost so much, suffered so much, you should not be sealed down here in the circle of Violence…”

She let out a shuddering sob and for a brief moment, Jon wished that he would be able to get her out of that tree and do anything to help the poor girl. Yet there was nothing that he could do to ease her suffering, she was doomed to suffer as a tree for the rest of time while he was grabbed by Aerys and forced to run onwards as the hunting horns of the Fallen echoed across the forest of suicide once more.

Jon gave Aerys a dark look as he was dragged on, snapping off more branches and twigs as they went and leaving a trail of blood and suffering in their wake, voices screaming out into the foggy air. They screamed tales of suffering and abuse and tortures, of kingdoms long forgotten and warriors long since slain, of children and lovers snatched before their times. Yet there were others who screamed for vengeance, of pain they had caused and their desires to be free and join the torturous harpies that flapped in the air above them.

Said beasts were growing in number above them, when they had first entered the twisted forest there had been none of them in sight and yet now, they were flying in great numbers over their heads.

Just as hideous as the minotaur were the harpies of Violence, which were forcibly fused together in the same way that the minotaur was. Their talons were long and dripping with blood, their bodies tiny and frail yet packed with corded muscle that allowed their oversized wings to beat, keeping them in the air and allowing them to move with surprising levels of speed.

Pausing, Jon noted the blood that was coating them from the various trees whose branches and twigs they had snapped and urged Aerys to stop “Wait! The blood! The harpies torture the trees, right?!”

The former king nodded and his grandson’s eyes widened “We’re covered in their blood! The harpies think that we’re the trees, its why they’re following us, and the Fallen are using it! I just worked it out because they’ve only been following us since I broke the branch off Ashara’s tree!”

Aerys looked down at his own blood-soaked clothes and Jon’s glistening torso before nodding “We must hurry then! To the desert! It is the only place the harpies will not tread and the Fallen will not follow us there!” A curious look was given and he sighed “The Fallen are violence against the Heavenly Father made manifest, the burning desert will harm them far more than the sinners! This brought us time and this next section will allow us to gain even more distance!”

Nodding, Jon forced himself to his feet and began doing his best to the wipe the blood off of himself though it was to little avail and so spoke again “I can clear the blood away from us, I think!”

“Why have you not done it yet?!” Was the shouted reply and he explained even as he ran.

“I would have to summon the storm of Gluttony! It would be like lighting a massive signal fire! I can do it but it is a question of having a few of the Fallen know our precise location or all of them knowing our general area!”

Aerys slowed for a moment, gently tapping his chin before shouting back “Do it! The Fallen are fast, if they know our precise location then we will be caught long before we arrive at the burning desert! Keep the storm up for as long as you can, it will restrict their flying and hopefully dull the senses of the accursed hounds as well!”

A nod was given in response and even as he ran, he held his arms up and channelled the boiling power from deep within his core. It swelled and sent a great bolt of pain through his back, sending him to his knees and drawing a great scream of pain free which was echoed by the trees and carried into the distance. Cries of joy echoed from the pursuing Fallen but they were turned to cries of shock when thunder pealed across the landscape.

Lightning flashed and the evaporating blood was pulled high into the sky by the slowly forming storm. Great clouds began to form, held together by Jon’s newfound power, and very slowly rain began to form and yet it was not the storm of putrid filth-water that had pounded his back in Gluttony, but rather a storm of bloody discharge.

Both of their eyes opened wide at the horrific sight of blood and water falling from the air, wetting their clothes and staining their skin a disgusting red. Yet it had another effect, powerful winds began to blow and bolts of lightning fell from the air, scattering the harpies alongside drawing even more cries from the Fallen behind them. Jon was quickly forced to his feet by Aerys and was forced to move onwards though it was tough, the pain was growing greater with each second that he kept the storm on.

Aerys, the more experienced of the two when it came to gore, saw the benefit of the bloody shower: it would stain the entire forest with the scent of blood, throwing off harpies and hounds alike which would allow them to hopefully escape into the desert.

Half carrying Jon who was still barely able to walk, the trees began to grow thinner by the time the storm was letting up. Both of them were equally soaked in blood which was washed off and yet replenished just as quickly, yet the downpour was slowly shrinking as Jon released his power over it, something that drew a loud gasp of relief from him as the pain in his back began to die down once more.

It still hurt and the constant pain had only grown since he pulled the stunt but it was enough to cover their escape and the ground around them began to change. As the trees grew thinner, the muddy earth began to grow sandier, as if they were approaching a beach from across a number of dunes.

Finally, they reached the edge of the clearing and leapt through, landing sprawled on the sandy ground which send them both to their feet rapidly, screaming in pain for the sand around them burned like fire.

And yet still there was no time to dwell on the pain as the trees behind them began to shake and rustle as the Fallen rapidly caught up. Though none of them dared to cross the treeline into the desert, Jon shivered in terror at the feeling of dozens of eyes on him. Aerys gripped his arm and yanked him onwards, heading into the sandy plains that burned their feet even through their thick boots.

They fled quickly, vanishing amongst the dunes even as the Fallen screamed in fury and flakes of fire rained down around them.

Though it was their means of escape, Jon felt no desire to remain in the burning desert of Violence for any longer than was necessary. Sinners littered the burning sands around them, some of them running and screaming, others forced to lay eternally outstretched so that they suffered the full heat of the nightmarish plane.

Jon himself felt like joining them for he was bare chested, his already injured back sent him to his knees on multiple occasions as the flaming flakes touched his wounds.

Aerys, fully clothed and still somewhat wet from the bloody downpour, suffered marginally less than Jon did but still had his feet pressed deeply into the burning sands by his injured grandson and small gasps of pain still escaped his lips. The very air around them was burning hot and it hurt to even breathe too deeply, forcing them to only take short gasping breaths; something that hurt more and more as they headed deeper into the desert.

The grandson quickly took the lead, though he leant heavily on the shoulder of his grandfather, the call of the next feather was irresistible to him and he quickly used his enhanced strength to guide them in the vague direction of it.

Each call was growing stronger now, his senses more attuned to the immense power contained within them and even now he could feel more of them. Three of them in the tomb, one of them closer and two more further away, obviously in the aforementioned circles of Fraud and Treachery and yet there were some above them.

The next seven were below him, he could feel them through the very earth itself, and beyond them were nine more though their locations could not be as easily pinned down. It felt as if they were in the very sky, swirling around forever out of reach and yet so close that he could reach out and snatch them from the stars themselves.

However, that was something to do later, for now he forced himself and Aerys through the burning sands until the feather itself came into view. The golden flames were surrounded with scores of worshippers, sinners kneeling in the sand even as their flesh seared and blood boiled from the heat of the fire and the sheer power of the feather itself. Yet as Jon approached it, he did not suffer the same fate, rather the heat itself seemed to simply fade from his body.

Even the pain in his back, once burning, was beginning to lessen as he approached the feather and slowly, oh so slowly, he reached out to gently grab it in one hand.

Light.

Fire.

Pain.

It ripped through his body with a thunderbolt of pain, forcing him to his knees and a scream from his mouth even as the pair of stubs on his back ruptured and grew. Muscle tore and bone cracked and reformed, over and over as it extended outwards until Jon had what resembled to be spikes of bone wrapped in raw muscle extending from his back a great distance.

Aerys himself recognized them as wings, torn in half by some nightmarish being, and if this was only to the first joint then the span of them was far beyond a man even as tall as the mountain.

Yet he could not dwell on it, Jon was not in pain from the burning sand anymore, only from the torn flesh of the wings and it was plain to see that he would require aid to move. However, that in of itself would prove to be troublesome as Jon had grown yet again, the muscle in his arms and legs ripping and reforming under the burning power of the feather. Even now, half mortal and half monstrosity, he still stood far taller than anyone his age had the right to be.

And yet strength still remained in his limbs, and when Aerys guided him to his feet, Jon quickly began to limp forwards; using the power of the feather to plot them a course to what he hoped would be safety and the next circle of the tomb.


	7. A/N

My grandfather just died

If you are an anti-masker. Stop.

I will upload when i am happier


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